The Ashen Demoness and Her White Rider
by K Double Prime
Summary: A series of stories about Byleth and resident cinnamon roll Ashe's relationship growth throughout the game and the routes. Open for flaming! Flame grill me, please!
1. Chapter 1

Recently got Fire Emblem Three Houses and just completed Crimson Flower and Silver Snow routes. Currently on NG+ Blue Lions/Azure Moon playthrough, and I have to say, I'm torn between Ashe and Dimitri, mainly because of the latter's timeskip design lol.

Anyway, my inner shotacon loves Ashe to hell and beyond (you may call the shotacops on me); he's such an adorable sweetheart. I've also read that he's receiving a lot of flak for being your generic nice guy (same with Stahl. I love them both). So, this fic is to give love to my OTP. Everyone is free to flame me but what I'd really appreciate is your heartfelt review.

Thank you for reading!

_This is a dramatization of my shock when I found out in Silver Snow that Ashe wasn't in my party anymore. Imagine my horror when I was scrolling through the roster and didn't find his pretty face! Ugh!_

_Pairings: BylethxAshe, SylvainxDorothea, CasparxPetra_

* * *

**Reunion (Silver Snow)**

Byleth left no stone unturned. The more places she visited, the heavier her heart became. It wore on as her feet could no longer bring her to the last place she hasn't visited yet. Stifled tears welled in her eyes.

'Do not panic, Byleth. Maybe he hasn't arrived yet,' was her self-reassurance. It slowly became a mantra as heavy steps uncovered all of Garreg Mach, only to show her that he wasn't anywhere in it. The young woman shook her head. This has got to be some joke! She turned around and she saw Sylvain and Mercedes jogging towards her; the latter with wide open arms typical of her ever-loving nature. It was that moment that her exhaustion fully consumed her.

The blond woman embraced her tightly. Soothed her. Cooed at her, "There, there…"

"He isn't here," Byleth looked at Sylvain, her teary eyes demanding an explanation. But she already knew the answer,

"Come on, Professor… Ashe, he…" the young man couldn't bring himself to say it.

Mercedes looked at him as the woman consoled the one in her arms. The look she gave him meant there was no way around it.

"Gaspard was conquered by the traitorous Cornelia, for the Empire. Ashe serves in its auxiliary army to save his people."

Finally, Byleth submitted to her pain and tightly clung to Mercedes as tears and cries took over her too. "No! No! No! No no no…"

* * *

'He was mad. Furious. He's such a nice guy but that day, he was frightening. He was so lost in grief that he ended up assaulting Seteth,' Sylvain chuckled. 'Restraining him earned me a few bruises. I didn't know he had such strength in him. We actually had to throw him into his room. Only through Dedue's help, mind you.

'A few hours later when I checked on him, he did calm down. But you know what? He looked the same that day when Gaspard died. Seteth came to check on him, too. Said that he'd do everything in his power to look for you.'

But that didn't sell to Ashe, thought Byleth.

'Ashe did not mince his words that day. Told Seteth off and lumped him with the lying church that he serves. We all went back to Faerghus after the Church has basically collapsed, Dimitri appointed him as Lord of repatriated Gaspard, and so began the battle against the traitorous Cornelia. But amidst all the fighting, he was deeply absorbed with searching for you. But what could a single guy do? He found nothing, of course, and it took him a year to finally toss in the towel.

'He hasn't been the same since then. Sure, he was still the kind and generous Ashe. But he became cold, distant and unapproachable. Can you believe that?

'He was truly lost, no clue as to where to find you. He surmised that maybe, that was the end to it all.'

* * *

The bed was awfully comforting. The warmth of the covers wrapped her in a gentle hug, the same way he had hugged her when her father had died. Byleth smiled. He freaked out the moment he realized he was hugging her tightly. Oh how he blushed up to his shoulders. Byleth giggled to herself. Giddiness brewed in her stomach as more memories came flooding back. A mere distraction to the emptiness she feels.

She turned in her bed.

_It was… at least a week after my father died. It was past midnight. Miraculously, I had the strength to get out of my room and have a bath. I considered drinking myself to stupor. But no, the last thing I wanted was for my students to see me drunk, and, well, pathetic._

_No one was around. Just me, the trees and the benches. I remember groaning when I sat my ass on one of those ice cold benches. But that wasn't enough to distract me from my anger, from my sadness. I think I broke down right there, bawling with my used clothes on my lap. I tried to be quiet. Didn't want to disturb Dedue nor Ashe, who happened to be my neighbors._

_I was too engrossed in my own pitiful silent cries that I did not notice someone approach. When he spoke, I raised my head; his visage was like a phantasm in the night. It was dark, there weren't any lights. Yes, I walked through the darkness without a candle or lamp! I did not have the proper faculties to think about it then. His silver hair glowed in the light of the moon and his green eyes, it's not possible, but they glowed like fireflies to me._

_He did not speak anymore words aside from calling my name, and he wordlessly placed a blanket on my shoulders. He sat down beside me. And I continued to cry._

_I remember telling him that I now knew what it feels like. It must have been hard for you, I said. He didn't answer. Must have brought bitter memories. The reason why he was there was because misery loves company. But he wasn't completely alone; he still has his siblings. What about me? I hardly know anyone aside from my father. And never did he tell me anything else aside from my mother, which we only talked about in passing a few weeks ago! Dammit Dad!_

_My tears dried for a moment. And I looked at him. It was then that I realized he had also been crying. Were those tears he had been stifling for months? Yet it was I that was comforted in a hug. It was tight. It was warm against the coldness of the night. And it certainly made me feel I was not alone as we both cried in each other's arms._

_"I am here, Professor. You have me."_

_Everyone came and go, checked on me as often as they could. They were kind to me. And yet, I did not hear their condolences, they all sounded hollow to my ears. Except for Ashe. Well, he didn't say anything. He never said anything, just sat beside me every time, offered me a blanket every time. He did not try to hug me again though, and I missed it a lot._

_The last time we met past midnight was a few days after I killed Solon. I stabbed him with all the hatred I had. He deserved it and more; he took my revenge away. It was instant gratification, as if a huge burden was lifted. And yet after that, I was empty._

_I sat on the same bench, my head thrown back as I gazed at the stars. His door creaked open, a few moments after, Dedue peeked through his door and saw us both. He never said anything about it._

_Ashe sat down, and as usual offered me a blanket to stave off the cold. I took it from him. That time though, I felt cheeky and threw it over his shoulders. And before he could complain, I returned his hug. I should have done it a long time ago, back when he was mourning. But I was too afraid of being inappropriate that I forgot the spirit of consoling._

I found myself outside, standing a few steps beyond my door, barefoot, and the only thing that made me not indecent was the coat the I pulled tightly around myself. That bench in front of me, it has seen better days.

_Ever since that month, Ashe and I met often at night. That was inappropriate; he was my student after all. But the guards would always turn a blind eye. I've always wondered why they did, but I guess it was more common than I previously thought. They saw students come and go with their hormones; Ashe and I being together at night was nothing new. They only made sure we weren't doing anything fishy, at times they didn't even stop to look at us. Maybe they figured everything out before I even had a smidgen of an idea of what was happening to me and my feelings._

Still barefoot, Byleth turned right, passed Dedue's door, and stopped at that room she secretly hoped to enter under a completely different reason. Her hands grasped a knob and pushed the door. It was clear of most of his belongings. And there were a lot of overdue books scattered about. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. On his desk was a piece of paper, that at the slightest recognition of the words on it, tears immediately fell from Byleth's eyes.

_Where are you?_

_How convenient this five-year sleep had been for me while it was an excruciating torture to him. I wonder where he is. I hope he's safe._

* * *

"Gaspard," Gwendal's gravelly voice called from across camp. It was cold. Well, it was always cold in the Kingdom, and it sank deep into his old bones. He stomped his feet, hoping to get the warmth flowing, as he waited for the young man to approach. "Finally, we are facing the Church you hate!" he guffawed afterwards.

Yet Ashe could not get into the excitement of it. He simply scoffed. He only wished to avenge Lonato and Christophe. Also to uncover all of the church's heinous crimes. And maybe make them pay for losing Byleth. He did not give words to the feelings he harbored, staring off into the distance instead.

Gwendal sighed. "You have a long life ahead of you, Ashe. Instead of being consumed by the past, focus on the present that Providence hath giveth." Still, the cold had not left him; the old man scoffed. "If I die, take care of my daughter."

"Apologies, Sir Gwendal," Ashe turned, his dulled green eyes glowered at the Gray Lion. "I can't." He excused himself to prepare the rest of his troops.

The old man remembers him as a sweet boy, too kind for his own good. Heck, Lonato coddled him alongside Christophe. Now, he was nothing more than a cold-blooded sniper who clears the field without getting touched by the enemy. He shuddered at the thought of giving away his daughter to such a man. Perhaps it was for the better that he rejected the proposal. Still, to have been transformed by the horrors of bloodshed… "Ah, young love lost to war…" Gwendal watched his breath condense in the cold wind, savoring it before meeting the unforgiving heat of the valley.

* * *

"Come on! Let's crush them Imperial dogs!" shouted Caspar, unwittingly raising the morale of the ragtag army under Byleth's command. "Now who's with me!?" His mighty roar further hyped everyone, despite the oppressive heat.

"Remember," Seteth began whilst he mounted his wyvern, "We are not the only ones encumbered by this heat. The enemies as well. Attack them the moment they traipse into the lava!"

"Professor, there are archers and snipers on our right," stated Sylvain as his eyes swept through the glowing landscape of the sweltering field. He looked at his helm with trepidation. One thing is clear, it isn't from the heat. Finally, he donned his helm, strapped it and lowered the visor. Caspar sidled to him.

"Archers to our right! Fliers be wary of stray arrows!" commanded Byleth; Seteth, Cyril and Petra, and everybody else in the flight unit took note. "Be wary of stray arrows! Don't wander until we've cleared them!" Then she saw the unlikely pair, Sylvain and Caspar, coming into an agreement. She didn't know that they were particularly close. They looked at her then back at each other. Finally, Caspar jogged to her and unceremoniously dragged her against her protests.

The paladin stood tall upon his mount, pointing his lance at some random point. "Listen, Professor. I'd love it if you'd watch and see how skilled I am during this battle," Sylvain raised his visor so he could show her his wink, to Caspar's chagrin. But he didn't say a word. The redhead continued, "Keep your eyes peeled for familiar faces."

"Are you saying that he's here!?"

"Maybe. I don't know." He grimaced. He didn't like the idea of setting his professor on false hopes. "But it's worth a shot."

"Right," noted Byleth, still unnerved on how she was manhandled. Though, she has something that's worth fighting for. Just as they agreed, a loud pinging noise bounced off of Sylvain's shield.

The redhead was grinning under his helm. "There is only one man known to hit something from that distance."

"Is it him?"

"Yeah, it's Snow White. That bastard!" Sylvain steered his mount, wary of the arrows that whizzed past. "Caspar, Professor, on me!" It was impossible for him to charge the enemy line, what with the softened and unstable ground. The only good thing about it is it kept him in a nice pace with the other infantry soldiers with him. The closer they get, the enemies' accuracy improved and HE started shooting at Sylvain's armor gaps, not to mention the horse. "Damn you, Ashe!" screamed Sylvain as an arrow shallowly dug at his neck through the mail.

"Ashe!?"

"Focus, Professor!" Caspar then ran over the hot soil, skipping and jumping through uneven ground as nimbly as he can, axe in tow. A nearby archer kept shooting at him but he didn't care. He rammed with his axe, knocking the sorry pal down and concussing him with the flat side. Another arrow narrowly missed him and he glared at his attacker. He screamed. He roared, all the while pulling out the arrows that got stuck on him. In the distance, Dorothea healed him, stacking on his brazen assault.

Byleth did the same but with more grace and evasion. What Sylvain had said weighed heavily on her mind, her subconscious controlling her strokes into nothing but glancing blows. She downed an archer, pulled off the poor man's hat and saw no ash. "Is he here? Somewhere?" She frantically looked at the ensuing chaos around her but found not a shadow of him.

"Over there!" cowered the archer at her feet. "He's been looking for you."

Sylvain pointed his lance at a blue clad sniper, fully aware of his identity. "About time you changed sides, Ashe!" he shouted, hoping their professor would hear and take the bait but she was nowhere in sight.

Ashe knocked an arrow and aimed at the gap of the visor, "It's too late for that, Gautier!" He let loose yet Sylvain steered clear. It flew past because of his half-hearted aim, only to be deflected by deft swordsmanship. His heart sank further. Seeing that banner, emblazoned with the Crest of Flames, had already wounded him. To fight her was unfathomable. Yet it is happening.

She had an ethereal glow to her light green hair and a cold yet fierce mien. The archers whispered amongst themselves, lowering their bows and arrows, desperately looking at their lord to give orders. They knew it was her. It only takes one order and they will follow their fledgling lord.

"Byleth... I'm sorry." He clenched his teeth, knocked another arrow and aimed at her. His soldiers followed suit and let loose another volley at the Knights of Seiros. But he didn't have the strength nor courage to let go. As expected she charged him, blade in hand. He did not even bother to evade the stab she made to his shoulder and fell over. Hat fell off and his silver hair spilled forth. The heat, the pain, the shock overwhelmed him. Just as he was taken down, his men ceased their attacks, counted him as good as dead.

Sylvain trotted to him; lance threateningly close to his throat. "Surrender."

"Spare them." A lone tear trickled down his eye. He felt worse because relief washed over him; he had his people to think of yet he was glad to have finally met Byleth once more. Ashe shook his head, reluctant. He pushed himself against the blazing hot ground and smiled at her, causing the woman to mindlessly drop her sword and run towards him. Tears fell on his face like rain as Byleth could no longer hold them back. Yet she smiled brilliantly, joyful that she found him at last.

Gently, she placed her hands over his wound and healed him. "I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you. Oh, Ashe…" Her sobs were muffled against his chest, her words begging, "Please come back to me…"

Sylvain and Caspar rounded those who surrendered and handed them over to the Knights of Seiros. Then they gave instructions to their troops as they saw fit before heading out to the fray once more.

"They need time."

* * *

"The hat fooled you, huh?" Ashe chuckled. "You have no idea how long I searched for you…" The lad hissed at the pain from his shoulder.

Byleth then raised her dirty face, marred with tears, blood and dirt. "Five years?" the two laughed. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Ashe."

"This was not the reunion I had in mind." His hand dried away the tears. Gently, he cupped her cheek, he reminisced of the last time he saw her. Of the pain of losing her. All of it were now in the past, and as he stared at her, he saw that time did not pass for his precious Byleth; she hadn't aged a day. His troubles were shadowed by relief, though. To finally be with her for the rest of his life lifted a heavy burden from his shoulders.

"I am yours to command, Byleth."

* * *

He was the last man standing from the Imperial auxiliary army; Gwendal did not mind. He looked up to the darkened sky. It was a good day to die. The others demanded his surrender but he was having none of it. Honor through battle, of course. Nothing like an exhilarating fight to the death!

Finally, the so-called new Church leader stepped up, an ethereal glow to her. _So, Ashe's description of her was true. Indeed, the young man liked his women busty. My daughter cannot hold a candle against a rack like that!_ He laughed internally.

"Ah, Gaspard's woman!" the Gray Lion chuckled. "So, you've seduced Ashe back to your side, I presume?" Yet he received no words in return. "Of course, that brat never really was with us since he has always been yours, eh? Well, have at you!"

The graying man raised his lance for one, last blaze of glory.

* * *

"How are you feeling, Ashe?" asked Mercedes as she entered the medical tent. She looks worse for wear.

There was pain but it was nothing compared to the pain of others. He doesn't understand why he was confined with the wounded. "I am well, Mercedes. Thank you." Ashe noticed her knowing smile and he didn't like it. "What?"

"Oh, nothing." Yet she continued to smile as she tended to the other soldiers. Of course it is one of the most critical things healers must do, smile, so as to lift the spirits of the wounded. But hers was different! Unable to take the atmosphere, Ashe resolved to get off the cot and leave, only to bump into Sylvain just outside the tent.

"Snow White," he smirked.

"Stop calling me that," Ashe tried to shake him off but the bigger man pulled him aside and locked him in one of his arms. "How did they even make that up!? My hair isn't even white!"

"Anyone would if they saw a pale man, like a ghost upon snow, after seeing one of their friends is dead with an arrow in his eye!" Then Sylvain whispered close to his ear, "With a look as cold as ice upon his features." He finally let go. "Snow White!" Sylvain mocked again.

Ashe finally gave in. He was so lost, pulled in many different directions, that he glossed through the war. He never looked at the faces of those whom he killed, only stepping on their corpses as the army advanced, as if to save what was left of his soul. Maybe now he may recover.

"Snow White?" asked Byleth as she arrived.

"Oh, it's nothing, Professor. On a happier note, our baby boy Ashe Ubert is back!" Sylvain presented Ashe, aware of the sexual tension that suddenly mounted.

Byleth smiled, her eyes curved softly. "Indeed, he is." She couldn't help smiling; her cheeks were pulling on her lips on their own. She doesn't understand how it's happening but happy that it is the way it is. Now that she had a good look at him, he isn't the boy she last saw. He was a bit taller and the roundness of his face gave way to sharper lines.

"Oho, see something you like?" teased Sylvain, further making his two friends uncomfortable. "That is a smile I had not seen in months! Ah, certainly a beautiful miracle given to us by the goddess. I can never stop basking in it!"

"I kind of miss not hearing you," jibed Ashe, causing his beloved professor to laugh. It pulled at his heartstrings and his lips. His bright green eyes gazed at her every feature, his desire to see her finally quenched.

"Well, that's my cue to leave! See you later love birds!"

"Sylvain!"

"You seem against the idea. Just like five years ago," said Byleth. "Well, I am glad you're back." Then she gently squeezed his other shoulder.

* * *

It was not that nice to be back in the monastery. Lonato and Christophe's deaths haven't been brought to justice yet and being in the same place as the vile "pious" people irritated Ashe. Yet he had no other place to go; so did his men. Why did they have to follow him anyway? He roamed the grounds, his feet bringing him back to their old homeroom. The Blue Lion banner still hung, faded. Before he could get inside though, somebody pulled at his nape.

"What the!?"

"You little! You shot me the other day!" The loud booming voice was unmistakable.

"Let go of me, Caspar! And how do you even know it was me!?" Try as he may, he could not escape the grasp of someone who excels at brawling. "Why are you angry? You lived!"

"You little piece of—"

"Let go of him, Caspar. The Professor will end you if you kill Ashe," teased Petra, albeit saving Ashe from the deathgrip Caspar had on him.

"So, you enjoyed yesterday's shooting gallery," entered Sylvain. "How cold!" Then he turned to the others. "Have you seen her today? She practically had a grin plastered on her face."

"I would not say grin. But yes, she is more happier."

"Yeah! Looking forward to working with you again, Ashe!"

"What are you guys talking about?"

"It's all nice to play the coy card sometimes. But come on, Ashe! You're going to make the Professor sad if you keep on acting like this."

"He is right. If you must be knowing, she turned all stones looking for you!" said Petra, confusing the silver haired lad.

"I think the idiom you're looking for is 'She left no stone unturned.'" It was Dorothea. She has grown more beautiful throughout the years. And Ashe did not fail to notice how she sidled to Sylvain.

"You notice this but you don't notice her efforts!? Extremely cold, Snow White!" the redhead faked a hurt expression.

"Stop calling me that, please!"

"Anyway, I believe she will be looking for you. She had just finished her magics training." Then Dorothea winked at Ashe, "Good luck!" She pulled both Sylvain and Caspar with her, despite the former's complaints. Petra followed suit but not before waving goodbye at the silver-haired sniper.

"What am I supposed to do now? Wait for her here?"

Answered, Byleth arrived from the direction of the Black Eagles homeroom. She looked around. When her eyes fell on him, her usual stoic face was filled with color and smiles. Her steps had a spring in them she never knew they could ever have. And her stomach was knotting around! She willed herself to imagine what he used to be: the sweet, adorable boy she was fond of. But seeing his longer, side swept silver hair sent her conscious mind to the back of her head and all she could manage was a shy "Ashe." It wasn't just fondness anymore, that she knew.

"Professor." He was similarly shy.

Their four friends looked on from the nearby entrance to the Reception Hall, they were high-fiving each other. Which didn't go unnoticed by Byleth, since she had a good angle. "I think they're spying on us." She bent sideways and peeked through Ashe; they scampered away. For good, hopefully. She giggled at their antics.

Unbeknownst to her, Ashe was staring at her every move. He couldn't believe that she was back. He knew she was real; she touched his shoulder back at the battle. But, "Are you real now?" his voice was a whisper as his hand reached out to brush away her hair from her neck. Every strand that ran against his finger was real. Then he moved to cup her face once again. Her skin was smooth and warm against his calloused touch. And her smile sent his heart a flutter.

She was surprised to say the least but nevertheless happy at his initiative. Her smile grew softer as she slowly leaned into his hand. And his thumb brushed ever so lightly against her cheek.

Ashe sighed heavily, "You really are real."

Byleth nodded. "I am back." Then she beckoned with open arms. Would he take it? No? But the woman hoped he would, so she kept her arms inviting. Ashe was fighting himself, she could tell, what with the bright blush on his cool-toned skin. The longer she waited, the farther down his blush crept. It was a fulfilling sight to say the least. She was feeling smug knowing that she's making him react that way.

She shook her arms, in case he forgot she was beckoning him for a hug. Coaxing him into her loving caress.

"If… If I may," Ashe finally squeaked. Small, uncertain steps he took towards Byleth, too conscious about her… ample chest being close to his. Yet the woman jumped him and clung, her arms around his neck. Her arms wrapped tightly around him, he feared he would suffocate. But it was okay. That is a good way to die. Of happiness. But no dying that day for him. He threw out his trepidation out the window as he returned the hug, lifted her up and spun around. Their laughter rang in the corridors and the rooms, not a care in the world if people were watching. Chortles died down and the two stared deep into each other's eyes. He thought he'd never see her again yet fate is a fickle thing.

Stifling his tears proved to be difficult as Byleth began crying. He put her down gently. "It's alright, Professor," he wiped away her tears as his own began to trickle down his cheeks.

He pulled her in for a second hug. Her hair was still soft to the touch. And her hands could still grip tight to the clothes on his back. She cried the same.

"I am here. You have me."

* * *

Thanks for reading! Please leave a review.


	2. Preoccupation

_I'm back. Thank you to those who read, and moreso to those who left a review to this story! I haven't been playing Three Houses as of late as I craved the stupid banters of the chocobros of Final Fantasy XV and have been grinding in Monster Hunter World Iceborne so most of my stories will be concentrating on either Silver Snow or Crimson Flower. But for continuity's sake, I will post all Silver Snow stories first, then move on to Crimson Flower. Thank you for enjoying the stories!_

_Also, everyone might have noticed that I don't have Dad!Alois. I didn't recruit him because, well, he looked lackluster to me. So Seteth is the 'Team Dad' character in all of my stories, where he is applicable._

_Silver Snow Pairings I made during playthrough: BylethxAshe, CasparxPetra, SylvainxDorothea, CyrilxLysithea, FelixxLeonie, LinFlayn_

_Extra-house characters I recruited on Silver Snow: Lysithea, Leonie, Mercedes, Sylvain, Felix_

* * *

**Preoccupation (Silver Snow)**

It has been five weeks since Ashe reunited with Byleth, and everyone quickly noticed a change in the woman's mood. For the better. Although, he gets to be the butt of jokes for her sake.

With Myrddin bridge successfully occupied, the Resistance Army prepares to storm the imperial capital Enbarr. However, Byleth called for a rest day, as there will be a lengthy march for the rest of the month, aside from fighting back the Imperial army. Everyone rejoiced at the news of the much needed rest. Boy, did they celebrate that same night.

Overzealous soldiers invited musicians over at the notice. Imperial ration and stock was transformed to their makeshift feast. The mess hall at Fortress Island also got whipped up by the frenzy. It's a huge cut from their spoils but morale has to be high. A small cost to pay.

Seteth quickly disapproved of the rowdiness in the mess hall, yet he did not tell things to stop. Instead he sat by the corner and was immediately offered a stein of beer. He eyed it, boredom in his eyes. Byleth noticed and approached.

"What's the natter, Seteth? Are we too loud for you?" she asked with a smile. Looking back at the clearing of the room, Dorothea and Sylvain were dancing a local folk tune. Energy, vivacious in motion, the stomps and taps in perfect synchronization, they caught all eyes on them. And they knew and they loved it. Their pair slowly grew as soldiers became uninhibited by the alcohol. Some danced with great skill, like Ferdinand and the two before him, while some just jumped in for the fun, like Caspar and Petra.

From the corner where she sat with Seteth, Byleth clapped to the tune of the music as a wide smile danced on her lips. She swayed to the beat.

_Jeralt, know that your daughter has grown much,_ thought the green-haired man as he nursed his beer. But with all the festivities, he's surprised to see her just sitting in a corner. "Are you not going to join them?"

The woman shook her head no. "I do not know much of folk dances." She snorted. "In fact, I only learned ballroom dancing because I once had a job as a bodyguard."

"Ah, quite the insight to your mercenary life."

Just as silence was settling between the two amidst the lively music, Sylvain drops in, too giddy and happy. He pulls Byleth out of her seat to dance with the group.

"Let go of me, Sylvain!" It was no use as Sylvain effortlessly dragged her to the clearing, swung her in the sea of dancing people. The red-head disappeared in the movement of bodies and faces; Byleth found herself paralyzed wherever she was.

"Professor!"

She couldn't get out of the circle. Telling people to stop dancing was out of the question. She looked once more for a gap to get out. But the dancers proved to be united against her. Desperate, she called for the first person in her mind, "Ashe! Ashe!"

_Gosh darn it,_ Byleth internally cursed. Of course, Ashe wouldn't be there; he isn't good at dancing. It was a mistake to call him. But the people began disentangling and she finally found a way out. Carefully she navigated the dance floor. Yet she was tugged to the side by a familiar face.

"Professor! Are you alright!?" His brows were furrowed in worry as his eyes looked her over.

"I-I am fine," now she remembered how alarmed her tone was before.

He sighed, relieved. "I thought you were in trouble."

"I was actually in trouble," Embarrassed, Byleth couldn't look him in the eye. Panic bit her while she was trapped, alone, in that circle of unfamiliar faces. Of all things that could send her into panic, it was this. She unconsciously tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear in her shyness, taking the attention of the young man in front of her. Ashe was enamored with her uncertainty and embarrassment, which, he admitted, he had never seen before. And he found it cute.

"You were in there?" Her ethereal eyes looked up at him, shocking him out of his ogling. Good thing he was already blushed with his earlier effort of saving the damsel in distress.

"I-I was!"

Byleth looked at the dancing again. "I thought you didn't know how to dance?"

"You remember that, huh?" He smiled fondly at her, forgetting for a moment where they were, preoccupied with the idea that she remembers him well, and he audaciously brushes away a lock of hair out of her eyes and tucks it behind her ear. He shocked himself. But her eyes gazed at him, call him presumptuous, lovingly, and he decided to play it off smoothly as he swallowed the lump in his throat. "I had five years to learn. Besides, it's folk dance. You learn it as a kid during festivals." His heart was drumming in his chest and he could hear it thrumming in his ears. Nevertheless he offered his hand. "Would you like to dance?"

"I might step on you," Byleth smiled sheepishly. Yet she took his hand and they disappeared into the throng of dancing people.

* * *

"Bet you something will happen to them tonight," Sylvain smirked, proud of their Blue Lion baby. They could hear Byleth laughing heartily from the crowd, obviously enjoying herself.

Dorothea snorted, disgusted at Sylvain. "Not every man is like you, who jumps at every opportunity to sink his teeth into juicy meat."

"Now, now, milady. Snorting is unbecoming of you. But I believe that Ashe is a man through and through and Professor Byleth is unwittingly in love with him. I'm sure things are bound to happen!"

It was Seteth's turn to tell him off, "If you believe that Ashe is capable of doing such a thing then you are mistaken." Everyone agreed.

"Ooh ooh ooh, you think Ashe will propose to her tonight!?" Flayn was giddy by the idea, wishing such a thing would happen to her too.

"I doubt it," answered Caspar. "He told me he doesn't want the Professor to be distracted." Wide eyes stared at him. "What?" he answered back to their incredulous stares. "Besides, who wants to get married during war anyway?"

"So, you're saying…" Everyone connected the dots but Flayn was the one to shrill. "That they WILL be married EVENTUALLY!?"

Caspar did not understand the little girl's excitement. "Yeah, I think so. I mean, they have to be. The Professor doesn't look at anyone like that aside from Ashe. So stop hurrying them into something." He can't believe he's the one to say it. Surrendering to exhaustion, he raised his arms and walked back to his room, not before saying good night to Petra. "I'm out!"

Almost everyone decided to go back to their rooms, except for Sylvain of course. He smirked, a diabolical plan in his mind. He slunk past his mates and tapped the merchant musicians.

"Ooh, this is sooo exciting!" Flayn watched on as the music transitioned. From the energetic tune to slow and subtle, the music changed and so did the dancers. Away with the rowdy soldiers and came in the lovers. Byleth and Ashe noticed and figured it was time to go. For they were not lovers.

Shyly, "Wait. You said you had five years to practice. Then..." Her eyes begged as she curtsied with her coat tails. "Could you dance with me, my lord?"

For a moment, he saw his future life flash in front of his eyes. And each and every moment were with the woman in front of him. Ashe bowed, "Of course. Who am I to decline such a beautiful lady?" His voice shuddered; he had always wanted Byleth to hear it. Of how beautiful she is, how strong, how reliable… and how very much in love he is. But that would have to wait for another time. He gave out his hand and she took it. His other, reluctantly placed in the small of her back.

"Your hands are shaking."

"You don't have to say it out loud," answered Ashe with a crooked smile. Five long years he waited for her to come back. But to be asked to dance out of nowhere gave him the nerves. _I've come this far. Might as well make the most of it,_ he thought. "May I… hold you closer?" He closed his eyes, somewhat waiting for her to leave or slap him. But it never happened.

At the words, Byleth's cheeks burned hot. She was about to tell him to but he went ahead and said it. "Yes. Please. I'd love to."

* * *

For once, Dorothea approved of Sylvain's actions. She clapped his back for a job well done. "Asking the musicians to change the music. I'll say!"

The redhead leaned in, "Well, I have to pay her back for setting us up after all." He pulled back and his sultry voice had the intended effect on Dorothea. A blush deep ran along her cheeks as she acted coy.

"I don't remember any of that."

"Mhm. What was it about 'Winning me over now' that you don't remember?"

"I don't remember being won over." Dorothea slyly bit back. She turned and left him where he stood.

"I love it when she's cold!"

He then looked back at the two, who now were the only dancers in the mess hall, even if there was no longer music. To them it played still in their hearts.

What started with a dance ended with a tight caress, as Ashe and Byleth continued to sway to an imaginary song. Her head was to his shoulder, eyes to the empty hall. She knew it was over but she didn't want to stop. But it has to. "Are you tired?"

"A bit, yes?" His hand reached up to pet her gently. "Are you?" She nodded yes, though he does not want to part yet, Ashe stepped away, unwrapping his arms. And so concludes their dance. "I'll walk you to your room."

They held hands, both having a spring to their steps. Over the moon they were, even with words left unsaid. They'd have to deal with it, some other time; focusing on fighting and war preparations is what they needed to do. And each respected that.

"Here you are, my lady."

There it is again; Byleth's chest tightened as if it would explode. It certainly was a foreign feeling but she ignored it, summing it up to excitement. Reluctant, she let go of him and immediately felt how cold it was without the warmth of his calloused hand. She opened the door and stepped in. But she doubled back,

"Ashe."

"Professor."

They were close yet again. Both could hear each other's hearts thumping in the silence of the night. Slowly, Byleth closed in to kiss him. But not enough courage sat in her heart. She kissed his cheek, chaste and quick. "Thank you." She looked over her shoulder one last time before going in and closing the door, as Ashe silently celebrated outside.

"I can't believe what just happened!" Her cold hands ran up to her face. It would be difficult to sleep tonight.

* * *

If the dance with his beloved Professor went well, his room accommodations didn't. There at his bed was Sylvain, snoring like a tired boar. Just when he finally felt the exhaustion sink in, he finds out he has nowhere to sleep. "I guess I'd have to sleep somewhere else."

He tried other rooms. Nothing. Sylvain's room was trashed. After he shed his coat, he grabbed a blanket and stalked back to the mess hall, thinking the benches would be good. Well, they weren't. He figured it'd be okay because he was used to not sleeping at all, if not getting a nap while sitting up. But he was wrong. It wasn't okay. His exhaustion was on another level. Perhaps, having his burdens lifted made him relax too much. Or he couldn't relax at all, because of ghosts. He sighed.

He knocked once. There was no answer. "Maybe she's asleep already." He groaned and backed away. "I shouldn't even have thought of this. I'm going back!" The door creaking made him jump.

"What are you doing here?" causing him to rub his nape.

"Sylvain invaded my room. He trashed his so…"

"You can sleep in my room," Byleth mindlessly answered. A few moments after, she rephrased, "I mean, there's a sofa here. Y-you can sleep there."

Sleep started to set in. "I promise on my honor that I won't do anything, aside from sleep. I swear."

"I trust you," then she beckoned him in and showed him to the sofa. He immediately sat down, unceremoniously removed his boots, yawned, then lied down to sleep. Byleth could only chuckle. "Would you need a blanket?"

Ashe raised the blanket he brought and Byleth tucked him in.

"Alright. Good night, Ashe," once more kissing him on the cheek.

* * *

Dreams of faraway memories fade into the light of morning as Ashe awoke from sleep. Groggy, nothing seemed to make sense of his surroundings; it didn't look like his room. Because it wasn't! He quickly shot up, "Pegasus crap!" surprising Byleth, making her drop her brush.

"Are you alright?"

"I-I-I- I I need to go!" Quickly he grabbed his blanket and boots to leave but Byleth stopped him from going.

"Are you really going outside looking like that?" then she looked at the mirror in her other hand, subsequently flashing it to him to show her point. Certainly enough, Ashe has a bedhead, not too different from his hair five years ago. And he was just about to leave barefoot and in such a state of undress. "At least wear your doublet and let me brush your hair."

Right. The sound of that is irresistible. But he shook his head fervently. "I really must go. I don't want others to be spreading rumors!"

"If you leave now, in a hurry, looking like that, you're more likely to spur gossipers. Why don't you wash your face first over there and I'll finish up with my hair?"

He did as he was told. Byleth always had impeccable insight, he pretty much had no choice. But for others to be gossiping about them… then he would have no option but to consummate it so as not to sully her, right? His own thoughts sickened him and he splashed himself with cold water. No use. He kept on thinking, imagining how he would propose. _That was the plan anyway! Why are you having second-guesses now, me!?_ He mentally raved.

Turning around, a perfect moment presented itself. Byleth sat on the bedside, mirror raised, brushing her hair in fluid strokes. She swayed sideways, getting a feel of her hair. Dark teal hair and blue eyes suited her more, Ashe mused, wondering if those colors would ever come back. Not that it makes her any less pretty. She swung her mirror hand and the surface flashed with a bright, blinding, reflected light. When it settled, Ashe saw himself, staring at Byleth through the mirror. She stopped with her motion and gazed back with a smile. He was caught red-handed! Quickly, he averted his eyes in apology, "I did not mean to stare. I'm sorry."

Byleth chuckled. "I don't mind." It was a nice morning indeed. Done with herself, she then beckoned Ashe to the sofa, and began brushing his beautiful silver hair. His back was to her. And was he glad it was! His face was burning in embarrassment, giddiness! "T-that hand mirror of yours is well-made." Anything just to fill up the awkward feeling he had. Each and every time she stroked his hair with her fingers, it sent a shiver down his spine. He couldn't get enough of it, stoking a fire he never thought he had. Ashamed, he willed such thoughts away.

"It was a gift from my Dad. He did his utter best to teach me feminine stuff." She handed him the mirror. "At times it was funny since we couldn't get things right."

The mirror was raised. His hair was back to being neat again, making him look decent, and her smile was reminiscent of the time they spent at the Goddess Tower five years ago. Byleth moved closer to his shoulder, showing herself to the mirror, and that was when he saw that his ears were as red as a tomato. She knew he was blushing hard! Now he doesn't know if her smile was simply to tease him!

"So, who taught you to start brushing your hair?"

Goodness. He lowered the mirror and handed it back to her without turning. "My little sister. She nagged me to no end, saying 'You're going to be Lord Gaspard and you're going to show yourself as a slob!? Bless Lonato's soul!'" His shrill voice mimicry was top notch. "Before I knew it, got used to brushing my hair." There was an amused laughter behind him, "What's so—"

"Bless me…"

Byleth couldn't stop the urge. Her arms just wrapped themselves around his waist. She realized the impulsivity and quickly pulled back. "I…"

"I don't mind. At all." He sat there, waiting if she would do it again. But no. He finally turned and so a timid professor sat there beside him, her hands wringing on her lap, and she was red up to her bare legs. _Bare legs. They look soft. Creamy. Hold up! What the hell, Ashe!_ Resolving to leave and leave things undamaged, he steeled his voice not to crack, "I think I should go. Thank you for letting me stay." He put on his boots and wore his doublet. But he did not find the strength to leave, and his fingers took their darn time to finally button everything. "If I may?"

Byleth jumped, "Oh, right! Yes! Please!" She was too preoccupied with her thoughts running rampant in her head. Never had she any experience of any sort when interacting with men under romantic pretenses, her own impulsiveness getting the best of her. She sighed. _Perhaps Ashe found that... too forward..._ The sofa creaked and she raised her eyes. Just in time to see that dreamy look in his green eyes before he kissed her cheek. Her mouth fell open! And he closed it for her. Rough fingers brushing her chin pulled her back to reality.

Now Ashe was worried, "Was I—"

"No! No! It's fine! It's alright…" It would be too greedy to ask him to do it again. So Byleth stood up, pulling out her Professor Mode. "Let's go. And leave your blanket here. Just-just pick it up later."

"Why?" Although he doesn't mind returning to her room. In fact, he'd love to be back.

"You said you didn't want any rumors. Leaving that here would make it look like you just picked me up for breakfast." The only ones who were staying in the same hallway was Seteth and Flayn, two reasonable people. Nothing to worry about.

Right. Ashe nodded then chucked the blanket back to the sofa. He thought about it; he might need it again considering Sylvain. Wait. That guy doesn't like dirty spaces so how come his room was trashed? "Sylvain…"

"What about him," Byleth opened the door. Mind you, she skipped wearing her armor pieces and her stockings. Her legs were practically glimmering alabaster in sunlight. You could say Ashe drooled, setting him off as a legs-man for the rest of his life.

The moment they got out of her room, an excited redhead greeted them, "Hey there Professor! Oh," he was surprised. Fake of course. "Ashe! You're here! With Professor! In her room!" He raised his brows. Up. Down. Up. Down. And he smiled mischievously.

"I was picking her up for breakfast," Ashe hissed back.

"Would you look at that! We had the same idea!"

"Sure. Except you had to do that for at least three other women before ending up in Professor's door," ending the conversation.

Byleth waved goodbye at Sylvain as she walked beside Ashe. When the young man looked at her, his annoyance was visibly gone. Just unadulterated fondness washing over his features.

Sylvain crossed his arms, smug. "Mission complete!"

* * *

_There you have it! Thank you for reading up to this point!_

_Have a nice weekend!_


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for everyone who left a review! I hope you keep on reading and reviewing!  
Love lots!

* * *

The horrifying destruction of Fort Merceus sent a lot of soldiers shaking in their boots. What exactly were they fighting that they had something so powerful? Was the Empire hiding such strength so that it could kill them all in one fell swoop? Byleth laid the fears to rest, "If that was something they could use freely, they would have used that a long time ago, back at Myrddin, Gronder, Garreg Mach! But no! Something destructive as that must require a lot of resources, so fret not! We survived them firing it at Merceus, we will survive it again!"

Everyone roared despite their trepidations.

"Listen to me. This is the last stretch of the war! We should not lose our spirit!"

"That was a good speech," congratulated Seteth as he awaited Byleth at the war tent. So far, most of the soldiers have been driven back up, thanks to not only Byleth, but the natural optimists as well. He'd seen Caspar's energetic cries for valor raise morale throughout camp. However, more important matters must be discussed. "I received word that we have reinforcements that arrived at Garreg Mach."

Byleth raised a brow. "How could that be?"

"Local men-at-arms dissatisfied at their lords, and there is a detachment from Gaspard."

That was surprising. "I thought they couldn't spare anymore men."

"Apparently," Seteth smirked. He couldn't believe he'd see the day that he'd report such cunning planning from the least expected person. "Your husband-to-be had been pulling strings. He setup an elaborate network of spies in Gaspard, as far as Gautier, and had secretly been rounding up rebels for you. Although, they would have eventually come at your doorstep one way or another, but Ubert definitely sped up the process."

Byleth's face reddened when she realized how much people have seen of her relationship; to think even Seteth thinks she and Ashe are lovers! Well, they've put up quite a show back in Myrddin; people would be too dumb to not notice. "He's not my husband-to-be." Yet.

Seteth raised a brow in concern. "Is that so? I was fairly certain that both you and him had come to a decision that you would get wed sometime after the war," causing the maiden before him to frantically wave her hands no.

"No! There's no such thing!" Yet. She hoped dearly that he'd get down on one knee and present her a ring.

"Is that so? Then I will refrain from referring to him as such in the future. Getting back on topic, we would have to go back to Garreg Mach to welcome these new men, supplies and intel. It seems Cornelia is stuck against the guerilla warfare in Faerghus. So we have time to spare."

"Very well."

"I presume you have experience with flight?" Seteth knows Byleth has; he had multiple training sessions with her. But he has never seen her take to the skies. Perhaps something akin to Vestra's fear of heights? "Flying on pegasi or wyverns would be the fastest way back and forth."

They do have to be back as soon as possible. "I'm a certified pegasus rider," although her pegasus was given to somebody else. They captured some wyverns from the Empire so those should do. "There is no other way. Let us go!" Then she walked to the tent flap, too eager to leave for Garreg Mach.

"Are you not going to say goodbye to him?"

"Seteth!" She would appreciate it if her colleague could drop the mischievous act altogether. The last thing she wanted was to be distracted by such notions. And she believes Seteth to be a lot better than some man harping on her about her love life! The nerve! "I'd app—"

There was a fond smile upon his lips, features in soft expression she'd never seen before. He had always been a strict no-nonsense kind of man, stoic if not emotionless. "It is good to have such a thing to fight for." Ah, nostalgia of him and his wife, back when they were still together, back when she was still alive.

She felt horrible for assuming the worst in her ally. "Sorry. Um, yes, I will speak to him before we go."

"Good."

* * *

"If I were King Dimitri, I wouldn't march into Imperial territory with such a measly force! The battle at Gronder was practically suicide."

"Yeah, that's true. But I'm sure he and the Alliance guy teamed up against the Empire. I doubt they had personal beef against one another."

"But they're both gone now. What's gonna happen to us?"

"What are you talking about? We're still the church." Soldier A looked funny at his companion, as if Soldier B had grown a third arm or something. "We have Seteth. We have Lady Rhea."

"But Rhea was captured. I doubt she's still alive."

"Well then, we have Byleth Eisner. I don't see anymore problems."

"Oh yeah! Right! She's scary, isn't she?"

Soldier A elbowed Soldier B. He was fairly aware that some of the students were around. "Shut your mouth before somebody skins you alive!"

"But it's the truth! Have you seen her in the frontlines? It's like she doesn't even blink at the sight of her own carnage! I'm just glad she's on our side." Then he grunted, "You know, maybe that Ubert guy is in love with her freakish strength."

That was the moment he couldn't take it anymore. Ashe loudly expressed his presence, "Ahem!" Although they were not mistaken to assume that he is partly in awe of Byleth's prowess, ever since the first time he saw her in battle.

Soldier A then bowed in apology, then manhandled Soldier B to parts of camp unknown, "You little c**t!"

That is right. Without Dimitri, the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus was practically inept. The same goes for the Alliance; they have too much internal struggles to worry about. As for the Empire, he sees themselves triumphant in their march against Edelgard. What would that leave Fodlan? The Church. The Church that he couldn't trust. But they could pull off another Holy Kingdom just for laughs…

"Then that leaves Byleth..." he shook his head

* * *

Her steps were brisk. Seteth did say they had to hurry. She stopped, eyes looking around, as discretely as she could, but it seems everybody already knows; a random priestess pointed her to the weapons convoy. Certainly, Byleth found Ashe there, counting bows and arrows for him and his fellow archers. The look of focus on his features made him incredibly handsome, hypnotizing that for a moment Byleth forgot what she was there for, aside from gawking at him.

"Professor! How long have you been there?" Ashe asked the moment he realized he wasn't alone. Carefully, he eyed the surroundings. Just him and the Professor.

A little bit embarrassed at getting caught off-guard, Byleth smoothed her coats unconsciously as she spoke, "Um..."

She's uncharacteristically shy recently, thought Ashe as he observed her fidget before him. Yeah, no. We are not gonna fall for that again, he reminded himself. No more unconscious space-invading actions until the end of the war for him. His brows scrunched together.

"We… Seteth and I are heading back to Garreg Mach. And I just wanted to let you know."

He was surprised to say the least. If anyone in her class was her enforcer or deputy, it would have been either Ferdinand or Sylvain. He couldn't hold in his incredulity, "Why? I mean why are you telling me this?" He already knew the answer. And he also knows why they were going back: his informant came around to tell him the ongoings in Faerghus.

Some soldiers approached the convoy and he had to pull Byleth a little ways off, out of earshot.

"I wanted to say goodbye," was her straight answer, back to her usual confident, if not stoic, self. "And that I will be gone for a day or two, and I would want you to watch out for the class." Why's he acting cold? A month ago he was really happy that we… reached a certain point in our relationship. Now he's just distant. "I can say goodbye, right?"

"I see." He felt everybody's eyes on them. "Be careful, alright?" He said, with finality. He then motioned back to his task.

* * *

Ashe watched the aerial detachment take to the skies. 'Seteth this. Seteth that,' he found himself thinking. He envied the man's position at Byleth's side, for his reliability and skills which he ought to learn himself if he had any plans of becoming a lord. His heart ached. And he seethed with jealousy. But what can he offer that Seteth hasn't? Nothing. He kicked a rock as he jostled the ground with his boot. He watched it roll, tumble until it stopped. 'Maybe it's about time I stopped too.'

* * *

"Well met, Captain." Byleth shook hands with the commander of the Gaspard Knights. He'd been recently declared dead in order to fulfill missives from Ashe. Now Byleth understands the full extent. "So this is what you've been busy with," her eyes swept through the formation; there should be at least two-thousand soldiers. Ragtag as they may be, she needs all the help that she can get. She bowed to them, "Thank you for being here."

The captain crossed his arms, in smirk, "Call us dower, if you may."

Hearing this caused Seteth to choke and cough.

"Dower?" asked Byleth, genuinely out of her element.

"Professor. Dower is—" Seteth cleared his throat. "It is a form of… bride price." She can be quite clueless at times, despite her natural talents.

That was when Byleth was taken aback, profusely blushing.

"It might just be a bit too early, but the whole of Gaspard," Gaspard naturals began bowing one by one, "Wishes for you to wed our lord, if we are not being presumptuous." His hand to his chest, he bowed in service to the future queen of Fódlan.

So this is what Ingrid felt like when she was swarmed with proposals… thought Byleth as she nodded to the idea. She wasn't against marrying Ashe, believing that there is no one else in the army that makes her feel the same: giddy and too optimistic about the outcome of the war. But it becomes embarrassing when in front of a huge crowd.

"I can manage here," began Seteth, cutting off the awkward turn, "You may return to Merceus and march with the main force."

Byleth stopped herself from agreeing at the first mention of return, not wanting to appear too obvious, to have a little bit of restraint. And the battle she was fighting within herself showed on her face.

Seteth chuckled, "No one will judge you negatively if you want to be back with your beloved."

"You're doing a bad job at being reassuring, Seteth."

"What? I don't see why you have to be ashamed. You're leading us with stellar results. You fight on the frontlines, you've lost family and friends alike, the least people could do is cut you some slack."

But when she returned to Merceus, someone was unsubtly cold. It wasn't a couple of days as she had previously thought and the moment she alighted from her pegasus, she only had one man in mind. And so she searched for Ashe in the vast clearing wherein the army currently rested. When she finally found him, Byleth wore a bright smile, brighter than any she has ever shown before "Ashe, there you are!"

"Professor! You're back. I thought you were with Seteth?"

"I was. But I rushed back here."

"The soldiers could use your presence," he said; his voice too deadpan for her tastes. The fact he deflected to others was a big red flag. He had no intentions of lengthening their conversation!

So Byleth tried. "How were things here while I was gone?"

"I think it's better to ask Ferdinand or Catherine."

He was correct. But she wasn't referring to the army. He's a good conversationalist. At least that's what she remembers him as a few days ago. That's when it hit her hard. Her lips parted in shock and they were ajar for quite a while. If he were himself or if nothing bothered him, he'd proceed to close her mouth, pushing her chin up with those bowstring-calloused fingers. But he didn't move.

"I see." Yes, she sees what's happening. So she pulled her Professor tone out. "Let's talk another time then." She left without another word, with no idea where to go to. Because she always stuck with him ever since she got him back. Resolving to find some place, the woman thought of how she wandered around Garreg Mach during her free days. 'Well, that's a start.'

* * *

Something happened, she presumed, without a doubt. And she began digging up when the first opportunity came. Yet there were no leads; no one had any idea of what happened.

"Something weird that happened?" Sylvain cocked his head. But he can't remember any. "Why you asking? We just marched a day's worth. That's it," then he looked at Dorothea who nodded her head in verification.

"Is something the matter, Professor? You can tell me. Don't tell him."

"Hey! Why can't she tell me?"

"Because you're going to gossip around."

Sylvain was hurt. "That's not true!" Dorothea knows. But she couldn't resist teasing him. "So, what's ailing you?"

She told them how frustrated she was. "I've got all this… this war and everything! Then he just does this one-eighty degree turn to further frustrate me. I'm tired! The least he could do is help me out!" It was explosive. Byleth huffed, visibly distraught. "Why is he doing this!?"

Both her companions were shocked at her display. Although it was nice knowing that there was turbulence underneath her stoic calm. The two looked at each other, arriving at wordless agreement, that somehow there was no way around it and the two would have to mediate. So Sylvain waved goodbye, further angering Byleth. Dorothea tried her best to calm the woman down.

* * *

Nightfall. Reconnaissance and forward teams rounded the immediate vicinity; anything can happen now that they're ever closer to Enbarr, the Imperial capital. Tents were pitched, mounts tethered for feeding and rest, and convoys stopped at the center of camp. Fires were soon brought to life, as the army settled down to rest. Cooks began their routines in the makeshift kitchens while the leaders had a meeting at the war tent.

Ration was brought out. Cold food, yay. But the cooks had enough heart to bring soup into life. And everyone rejoiced at the thought of warm food. Ashe was pleased that although rationing was tight everyone enjoyed the small yet warm meal. He stirred the pot, waiting for someone to queue up, with thoughts of how jealous he was for the past two days. Conflicted, he doesn't know where to go with his feelings.

"Hey there, Ashe!"

The young man looked up in time to see Sylvain's dastardly wink. And he regretted it.

"No need to look so disgusted, my man." Then he leaned in on the table, his soup bowl asking for a serving. "Volunteered yourself yet again. Hm, I kinda miss your and Professor's cooking." Sylvain took a sip of the soup, good as usual. "Good! As expected. But missing something."

"Get to the point."

"Aha, she is right. Why so cold, Ashe?" then he waved at a random soldier and told that person to man the soup. Sylvain then clapped Ashe on the shoulder and beckoned him somewhere inconspicuous. They arrived at the war tent. He motioned for Ashe to go in.

"Why should I?"

"You're being awfully prickly, you know! Just go inside, for goddess's sake!"

"Sylvain?" It was Byleth.

"It was trap," cursed Ashe underneath his breath. But what else can he do when he listened to Byleth's footsteps getting closer. Dorothea then arrived with bread and soup and handed them over with a wink of her own. Certainly, their habits are starting to rub off on each other.

"Good luck." Then she took of with Sylvain, her arms slinking around his elbow.

The tent flap opened and was she surprised. "What are you doing here?" Then she saw the food. It didn't take a second for her to realize that it was their friends doing, what with Ashe's distant spell. She took the bowl and the bread, making sure that they had no such contact. To give him space is the least that she could do. "Thank you, that was thoughtful of you." Immediately, she ordered him to stay, lest he ran away. "We need to talk."

She placed the food down on the table and took a seat. She beckoned the other over, too, and offered the bread. "Care to tell me what's happening to you?"

"Nothing's happening to me."

"Right."

They heard footsteps from outside. "Professor?" It was Seteth. The man did not ask for permission, assuming that the tent was empty. But was he surprised when he saw the lovers there. He cleared his throat. "Apologies, I did not mean to interrupt."

"No, it's alright. You have things to talk about, right?" said Ashe as he moved to exit but Byleth angrily thumped her soup bowl on the table. Her frustration was clear as a bright sunny day.

Seteth quickly picked up on it, "No, you stay. I believe it's about time you two were honest with each other." The man quickly left.

"You heard him," glared Byleth as she tore a piece of bread and ate. "So what's going on?" she reiterated.

Ashe sighed. What did she want him to say? Admit that he was jealous? He doesn't have the right to. She wasn't his. He bit his lips and crossed his arms, not really wanting to talk.

"Fine. If you don't want to talk, I will," said Byleth. She unceremoniously stood up, the utensils clattered about, with a fervid glare upon her features that softened in an instant. "I don't like what's happening to you. To us." She gathered all her courage. "I don't understand what's going on but please don't be like this. You're making me feel alone."

"Alone? You have Sylvain, Dorothea, your friends! And Seteth," he stressed the last name with prejudice. "You're not alone."

"They're different!"

"You're different!" screamed Byleth. She approached. "It's different when I'm with you. And I don't know what it is." No, she was keenly aware of what it was. "I just know that I want to be with you always! I can't explain this, this need! I have always been alone! Now I..." Her hands held tightly to her coat, grasping, clutching. "Why do emotions have to be so complex!?"

Ashe was dumbstruck with Byleth's tirade.

"And what about Seteth? Why are you bringing him into this!?"

"Because I'm jealous, alright!?"

Seteth's eyes widened. He didn't leave at all, thinking that the two might need his intervention somewhere in between. But boy, was he in for some juicy bits. He was confused, 'What does this have to do with me!?'

"What? W-why!?"

'Yeah, you tell him, Professor,' thought the green-haired man as he mentally sided with Byleth.

"Because," Ashe was finding it difficult to express his thoughts and feelings, now that embarrassment was taking over as he realizes how petty he was being. "Because… he's always by your side. Helping you. Guiding you. What could I possibly have that could hold a candle against that?"

Seteth sighed, 'The correct word would be envy.'

"The correct word would be envy," corrected Byleth. But she was now relieved. "But I believe I would be similarly jealous if you began hanging out with somebody else. Like Petra."

"Excuse me, what?" Ashe couldn't believe what he heard. Of all people, Petra!? "Petra is in love with Caspar!"

"In love?" Her hand went to her chest. That's right. Her heart does not beat. Then how will the saying apply to her? "This… I can't explain it. Maybe this is what they call l—"

His bowstring-calloused fingers were firmly clamped over her lips. He was dangerously close, too. And he was shaking. "I don't want to hear it," he whispered to her. "I don't want to hear it. Yet." Maybe it was just her pitying him. That last thing that he needs is love born of pity. His hold loosened and Byleth was just as determined as he was, to tell him what she thinks she's feeling,

"I l—"

"I don't want to hear it!" but this time, he was laughing and crying at the same time. "You tell me after the war."

Byleth nodded and his warmth was gone. Instead, she wiped away his tears of joy, "I don't think this feeling would change anytime soon."

Ashe crookedly smiled, "Neither will mine." He laughed again, "Goddess, I can't believe this."

"You have to because I really think I lo—"

His hands were back at her face. Her skin was soft and her lips were warm. Slowly, his fingers brushed against them, testing Byleth, but she just stood there, letting him. That's far enough, he reprimanded himself. "Stop teasing me."

"I'm not."

* * *

A few more moments, the tent flap opened finally. And out came Ashe, surprised that Seteth was still there.

A bright red blush crawled over every inch of Ashe's face. "You were listening?!"

"I did not hear anything," a blatant lie.

Byleth exited the tent, the bowl in her hands, similarly surprised that Seteth was present. "Seteth? What are you doing here?"

"I was hoping to discuss with you our costs this month." The man then looked to their other companion, hoping he was not crossing some unspoken line that might cause the younger man to be dangerously jealous yet again. "May I?"

"Why are you asking me? Wait, so you were listening!"

"I was not. I merely thought it proper courtesy to ask the lord husband."

Byleth almost dropped her soup bowl.

* * *

Sylvain smirked, "Told ya it wasn't me!" Proudly he mocked Ashe for thinking he was the one who was spreading rumors. "Besides, people don't need rumors with the way you two act around each other."

"Maybe I should threaten you again," hissed Ashe.

"You can try!"

* * *

Thanks for reading!


	4. Adrestia's Last

Okay, I was lazy and kinda busy with work. Just got rolled into a new project. Life's been eventful lately.

As usual, thank you for reading this fic. Especially now that I have really stepped onto the FANFICTION realm, like, coz there's an OC. Nothing much, that's all, but I do hope that you all still enjoy this.

Have a nice day!

* * *

**Adrestia's Last** (Silver Snow)

Byleth combed away ebony hair from green eyes. She had seen the color combination before, coupled with a dark, brooding expression. Yet this child was anything but his father. Innocence lit his face, still unaware of what, or who, had taken away the lives of his parents. The woman could not take it and she turns away, stifling her cry. She leaves the poor child in Seteth's care as she ran in the halls of the Imperial castle, searching for her love. Panicked, she looks left and right at a crossing, not knowing where to go. It was fortunate that Ferdinand von Aegir spots her in her moment of confusion.

"Professor?" the man approached. "Are you lost?"

Byleth nodded, then supplied that she was searching for Ashe.

Ferdinand senses the urgency and quickly brings her to the silver-haired bow knight, who happened to be at the right-wing garden. Byleth did not waste time, hurrying to caress him when he turned. His green eyes questioned the other man, but Ferdinand only shook his head. Ashe held her gently. His hand ran down her back, soothing. "What's the matter, Professor?" He still calls her that out of habit, despite everyone telling him to start calling her by name properly.

"I killed them," she whispered. First, Hubert, then Edelgard. She pressed her face tight against Ashe's chest, even if the plate armor hurt, "Although they deserved it...I can't… I can't look him in the eyes!" were her muffled words. Still the man had no idea what she was speaking of.

That was until Seteth arrived with a toddler in his arms. Everyone understood. What and who the child was. Aside from the 'Slitherers', there was something more that Hubert von Vestra had hoped to entrust to Byleth.

'Those who slither do know of this child. He is the one wish that Lady Edelgard had asked of me personally. And now that we are both gone, I hope that you protect him from them.'

Those green eyes bore holes into her, as if innocence was merely a veil that hid away cleverness.

"Let's take care of him."

Her head shot up to look at him and verify his incredulous words.

"It's our responsibility to look after him and assure that he does not meet the same fate." Ashe smiled then beckoned Seteth over so that he could take the child into his own arms. "He is as afraid as you are, Byleth."

Slowly and with reluctance, Byleth detached herself from her beau so that he can carry the child. They looked at one another, two shades of green, eye to eye. Then Ashe pulled Byleth for another hug. "This child should never be held responsible for the sins of his parents. Can you help me keep that promise?"

Reluctant as she may be, Byleth smiled and nodded fervently, "Of course." More and more she fell deeper in love with him and his kind heart. Ashe then placed a soft kiss upon Byleth's brow. A seal to a promise they intend to keep to the end.

* * *

"This is your Mum, Addie," pointed Ashe at a portrait of Edelgard von Hresvelg, the last Adrestian Emperor, as he carried the child in one arm. "She was a good ruler who fought for her beliefs." It was true. He once thought that her ideals made sense. But it was through her conspiracies that Lonato and Jeralt died, both of whom are his fathers. But that wasn't something that the child is ready to hear.

"I have two Mums?"

"Oh, yes. And they love you very much."

Ashe looked at young Addie; his eyes were glued to the adjacent portrait. He followed suit. The man immortalized in the painting had ebony hair. His expression was hard and brooding if not glaring. Anyone would find him a frightening fellow though it wasn't far from the truth. "That is your Dad. Hubert von Vestra." Ashe failed at words that could paint the dark man in a good light. Fortunately, his wife saved him from embarrassing himself.

"So this is where you two are," huffed Byleth as she closed the door to the blue room. It was Castle Gaspard's art room, that which the two had added the two Imperial portraits, courtesy of Ignatz, for the sake of their adopted child.

"Couldn't you send somebody to look for us? You're heavy with child." Indeed she was. Byleth was nearing her last trimester and the child grows heavier every day. Both Seteth and Ferdinand sent her back to Gaspard in time of her childbirth, away from the hustle and bustle of Garreg Mach.

"You all treat me as if I am a casualty. I am pregnant, not wounded!" She giggled as her husband kissed her brow. "The doctor said it would be good for me, walking that is." Then she combed away Addie's fringes. It now frequently gets into his eyes, just like Hubert's did, and she surmised that a haircut is in order.

"Don't want to!" said the child while he draped himself over his father's shoulder. He raised his eyes, towards the painting of a silver-haired woman with soft purple eyes. Beside her was a dark-haired man, his features similar to his.

Byleth noticed how hypnotized the child was. "That is Hubert von Vestra. He is a man of devotion. He loved your mother very much."

Ah, the words he was looking for. Ashe petted Addie then kissed him. "They loved you very much, Addie."

Byleth imitated her husband's gesture, "We love you very much, too."

"I'm hungry," said the child and the three of them headed out for a snack.

* * *

_Another morning_, groaned Byleth as she finally resisted the urge to go back to sleep. She stirred in her bed and yelped! _Right, I forgot about that_, she mused at how packed her bed is at the moment. Beside her slept little Addie, who wouldn't sleep alone, and Ashe, whom Addie had insisted sleep with them. The man had moved to the foot of the bed, sleeping propped against the wall with his head lolled over his shoulder. _I doubt he had any decent sleep in that position._

Carefully, Byleth swung her legs over the edge. Her eyes darted towards Ashe, verifying that he's still asleep before she began to right what little clothes she had on. She pulled her robe on, and as she did so, she reminisced about the last time they slept together in the same room; it was back in Myrddin. Sylvain saw through their pathetic excuse, knowing he has used the same excuse many times in his long stint of carousing until daybreak, yet surprisingly, no rumors has sprouted since then. _Perhaps, I judged Sylvain wrong_, chuckled Byleth as she brought out the brush and the mirror.

After washing her face, she sat down to brush her hair. Incidentally, Ashe woke up and checked on their baby—Byleth blushed at the thought. _Having a family with him sounds nice, what with him being a responsible man_, she thought as she watched him through the mirror. He tucked the kid's arms in and pulled the covers up to Addie's chin. Looking up, he caught the mirror flashed at him and he smiled beautifully. He left as soon as he put his boots on.

Byleth pouted, "Hmph, didn't even bother to give me a kiss!"

* * *

After they defeated the Empire, things have started to veer towards normalcy once more. They've lost many, and grieved much, yet here they were, ready to give more again as reparations and rebuilding began its planning stages. However, Seteth laments that the war is not over yet. This time, he plans on taking a smaller portion of the army with them, only the most elite of the Knights of Seiros plus Byleth's class. She herself does not know who or what they're up against but she trusts the man's judgement.

Everyone involved was preparing tirelessly, herself included. Weaponry has been maintained and restocked, vulneraries and items as well. Continuing their instructions after war councils, Byleth made sure that everyone improved in one way or another. Even if everyone was exhausted, reaching their limits, she pushed them on, believing that they're on the final stretch.

"You're lifeless," the woman remarked after failing to get a reaction from her praise. She prodded further "Is something the matter?" There is, that she knew. Otherwise, her beau Ashe wouldn't be as quiet as the dead. Usually, he'd be happy and eager while learning but she realized even the most patient men have their limits. "You can tell me." She beckoned him to sit down, not before shooing everybody else out of the war room.

His green eyes watched them leave one by one, saw people pair up. His trepidation grew; its roots digging deeper into his heart though he refuses to give words to his feelings.

"I don't like that you're too quiet." Yet she waited. Her hand reached for his, squeezed it tight. He returned the gesture, entangling his fingers with hers. Sometime ago, he'd smile like a fool when they held hands. But he couldn't find that happiness at the moment.

"I thought the war was finally over. Then it wasn't."

She figured that was the case. She was excited, too, hoping that she could finally put an end to the yearning she feels and settle down with him and Addie. But there seems to be more to everything. "You're also mad that she's back," Byleth whispered, hinting at Rhea. The corner of his jaw moved in irritation.

"I could care less about her," he hissed. On his face a was a mess of anger, confusion and sadness. It was the same with his voice.

Gently, she reminded herself. Conversations with this tone requires it to be a little bit of chess, careful maneuvers and subtle leads. "Then should we leave it at that?" hoping he'd tell her when he's ready.

"It's just that—"

Perfectly bad timing—Mercedes and Addie appear at the door. But… perhaps it was for the best. Ashe's worries melted away as the child, without hesitation, ran towards them, at full speed. It took them both a few days before they got used to each other, now, Addie looks up to them as his adults.

"Maybe it's a matter for another time," said Ashe as he lifted the child up to his chest.

Byleth agreed.

* * *

"Rrrrrrraaaaaaarrrgggggghhhhh," his scream of painful effort echoed through the main chamber as he pulled his bow one last time. The mighty golems that continuously pestered them was as persistent as they were, and they continued to block the way to Solon. Just a few moments ago, a strong magical quake assailed them, immobilizing their mounts, fracturing multiple bones in their bodies. Those who survived it pushed back the gigantic enemies as Byleth ran up the stairs to the enemy, the last one of the dreaded leadership of Agarthans, to ultimately end the battle. Multiple dark magic spells fired out, hindering her on her path. And as one last shot, Ashe pulled his bow against his own body's wishes, arrow aimed at the very top of the flight. The weight of the accuracy ring he wore on his right thumb and every skill he learned under Byleth's tutelage assured him; he wasn't going to miss.

Byleth heard the whizz, followed through with the Sword of the Creator at the ready, and the arrow piercing Solon, she jumped through the vortex of magic, through the pain, and offed him for good. "Finally… finally… Dad, you have been avenged!" she heaved and hacked, manic grin on her lips. One more stab to ensure that the bastard was dead, then she left as quickly as she could to help the others.

With haste, she flew through the steps, the carnage flashed before her eyes. Dorothea, Linhardt, and Mercedes did their best to heal the others though they themselves weren't unscathed. Byleth found Ashe, resting against his dying horse. He was in no better shape and yet he was comforting the animal, tears in his eyes, both from pain and sadness. "There, there, it's gonna be alright," he calmed the horse down. A few moments after, it stopped moving.

She concentrated her magic to restore him but then the ground rumbled. "What is it this time!?"

Javelins of Light! Everyone scrambled onto their feet, desperately finding an exit to the damned underground den.

* * *

Addie colored at the foot of Ashe's bed. The child was more than happy to have them back and well again, awake again. Church staff recounted how harrowing it was to see the dark-haired child silently crying in the corner as his beloved adults were being hefted into the reception hall, in stretchers, motionless and bloody; the child feared that they were dead.

Byleth watched him, "How are you feeling, Addie?" She had fainted on their way back to Garreg Mach and thus was taken into the monastery in a stretcher alongside Ashe. She was worried that a lot of them wouldn't make it. But news from the medical team overjoyed her. Some would take a long recovery but they were alive.

"Happy!" The child smiled, reminiscent of the smiles of both his true parents—never full crescent, small yet sincere.

She looked over her shoulder and saw her beloved watching them. He was sitting up, fine enough after the healers mended him for the last time. His arm was in a sling, the one thing they did not repair for him. He looked tired yet relieved that the war was finally over. Byleth was as well. Jeralt was avenged, the people of Remire and Lonato and Christophe as well. Many others, too.

"So you're telling me it was the Agarthans that egged both Christophe and Lonato? On two different accounts?"

"Yes. I've had it investigated by Seteth. And well, you saw the letters."

Ashe sat back against his pillows and sighed. Finally he can marry Byleth. She sat closer to him and held his hand. Her expression was knowing, "What are you thinking about?"

"I was thinking about Gaspard." He steered clear of his true thoughts and intentions, afraid that he might blurt it out prematurely without a ring. What's her size anyway? And what's her preference with jewelry? Wait, does he even have enough gold?

"You're going back?"

"I have to. I want to oversee its rebuilding. I have to check on my siblings as well." His green eyes looked into her soul. "What about you?" Ashe was concerned. He heard the news. With the leaders of every country of Fódlan either dead or missing, everyone in the church is insinuating that Byleth is the only good leader left in the land. His expression was pained, "You're going to be queen?"

"It seems I may not have a choice."

Ashe turned to Addie, afraid that Byleth would see the tears that shimmered in his eyes. "If you don't want to do it, you don't have to…" Because a commoner such as him would certainly not be fit to be king-consort. Everyone would be beset by worry for breaking tradition. He shook his head. "But I guess, if you become queen, I'll have to be your best knight. It's the least that I could do."

The woman beside him chuckled. "You don't want to be king?" Although its consequences were painful, him not wanting to marry her is the worst of them lot. So what is this? Letting me hold your hand, kissing me chastely on my cheek, caressing me, raising a child with me? All of this… isn't? Painfully, her chest tightened at the realization. Byleth looked at his face for answers; he was morose. And seeing him so relieved her.

"Byleth, I…" Her name naturally rolled off his tongue, "Wouldn't everyone be mad with me?" he rubbed his wounded arm as insecurity ate his soul. "Certainly they would want a noble."

Aha, so that's what he was worried about! "Oh, Ashe…," Byleth held his opposite cheek. Gently, she turned him around, to look at his face, revel at his perfect features. Well they weren't really perfect but they were more than perfect for her. She tucked away that stray lock of hair behind his ear. "How about we have a little bit of insurance?"

"Huh? Wh—"

Byleth didn't give him time to finish what he was saying. It was long, it was deep, and she savored every second his lips was on hers. It wasn't the best kiss that there is but she figured they'd have all the time in Fódlan to practice. Not to mention she could just rewind time.

"Yuck," interjected Addie. He was about to ask them to review his work. But when he turned, of all things he had to see, it was his adults kissing.

Rosy blush dusted her cheeks as she parted herself while he was red all over and he was like a gasping fish, mouth open and closing in an attempt to speak, but no words could actually come out. "Ashe!" she shook him.

"W-Why did you do that!?" Not that he didn't like it. But she wasn't his fiancée! They had no relationship whatsoever aside from being ex teacher-student and being allies… He felt like crying. His emotions were pulling him in eight different directions and more.

"Insurance! Now you really have to do something about it! Or, or I'll cry foul and force you to do something about it!"

"But those choices are the same!"

Byleth laughed. "No, they aren't." Her laughter died down when she saw the grim expression of her companion. Suddenly, she shared it, too. "You don't want to—"

"Don't get the wrong idea! Obviously, I'd want," Ashe shook his head, "I'd LOVE to spend the rest of my life with you… but… you're gonna be queen."

"So?"

"I mean, if it were Felix or Sylvain who'd marry you, everyone would be alright with that!"

She does not like what she's hearing. "I wouldn't be alright with that."

"I'm not a noble, Byleth!"

"So?" she stood her ground. She doubts anyone would go against her choice of spouse when she gets crowned. She'd just threaten them with the red glow of the Creator Sword and everything will be okay. They both sighed. "I don't see why you're worrying."

"And why shouldn't I?"

"Before they make me queen, I'll marry you. Then I'll repatriate you, back to Gaspard as its heir, talk to its governor and citizens. I'm certain they would want you back; you are Lonato's son after all. Then I'll marry you again. You'd be a noble then, right? If someone insignificant so much says a word of objection, I will show them to my blade."

"They'd call you a tyrant!" Though the thought that she thought everything out just to marry him melted his heart.

"So?" Byleth laughed. "I mean, it would be a lot less bad than what Edelgard did."

They fell quiet once more as they watched Addie crinkle his nose as he made a wrong choice of color for his masterpiece. A knock on the door broke them off as Byleth went to answer it; it was Seteth, bearing news that Rhea wishes to speak.

* * *

"No! Cyril don't do it!" screamed Lysithea as she tried, futile as it may, to stop Cyril from entering the melee. Yet he was gone, atop his wyvern, bow in hand, to try and put down the berserk Immaculate One. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she continued to man the magic orb. She looked around, somebody, anyone who could stop him but everybody was busy distracting Rhea. She prayed, from the bottom of her heart for the first time, that may the Goddess keep him safe.

Pain overwhelmed him at the smallest movement. He looked down, his arm was practically torn off, holding onto a single thread of tendon. "Dorothea! Any time now!" He roared as he waited for the physic spell to land on him as there was no way he could do anything with his lance arm flayed. He grasps around for the Lance of Ruin; he must be at the ready to attack at any moment the barrier on his side breaks. "Just when I thought I was finally having a break, this happens!" Warmth and light finally engulfed him and he felt the magic restructure all his wounds. He urged it faster, faster, so that he could go back and help his professor.

The barriers on his flank broke down after Cyril's successful attack; he wasn't fortunate though as Rhea's breath sent him and his wyvern careening down to the ground. Sylvain took the chance. He steered his mount around and charged at full speed. The Lance groaned and rattled at the anticipation of flesh. On the other side was Byleth, battling against Rhea's clawed attacks. She was lucky enough that she was much faster and that the monster was too preoccupied by everybody giving their all.

It was a long and arduous battle. She heaved, her endurance at its limit. She can be wounded and healed over and over, but her vitality could only handle so much strain. Finally, the barrier broke and like fluttering golden butterflies, they flitted in the wind. If not for the apparent danger they were in, it would have been a beautiful display worthy of being captured in canvas.

Byleth raised the Creator Sword. A fast clopping of horseshoes approached. He urged his mount faster; momentum must drive the lance deeper into the dragon's hide. The horse leapt. Sylvain plunged the Lance of Ruin into Rhea's chest and they fell backwards as the monster flailed about in pain.

One last blow to finish it all off. She smiled through the grime and dirt, looking forward to receive a ring and a proposal, get hitched and have a family and be love struck like her father was.

Byleth leapt into the peaceful future.

* * *

Ashe grinned as he dismounted from his horse. It was a fairly long ride through misty Magdred yet no matter how dreary it was, it could not dampen his mood, not by a bit. That was because the day after was his formal reinstatement as Lord of Gaspard. The news of it was well celebrated back at home. But that wasn't what truly made his heart jump for joy. It was his return to Garreg Mach. For a couple of months he had been absent from the ancient edifice, and moreso from the company of his beloved Byleth. He could care less for his title, and his people expressed their entertained disdain of it.

Most of the damages have been repaired and the monastery looks like a mismatch of patches. He walked some more into the vastness of Garreg Mach, waving with a smile at the people who recognized him, as precious memories overtook his faculties. Up he went to the second floor offices, in search of Byleth, only to be disappointed by Seteth.

"I am afraid she escaped me and her tasks," there was a neat stack of documents at her table. His face lit up, "I have a favor to ask of you. Would you mind returning her to her office?"

Ashe smiled and nodded.

"By the way, congratulations, Ubert. Or should I call you Lord Gaspard? King-Consort?" causing the younger man to redden slightly.

"I'd love it if she would say yes."

"Ah. So you have gathered the necessary courage. Her answer will be yes. Undoubtedly so."

And Seteth was right. Byleth indeed accepted his proposal. With a teary yes. He could barely hold his own tears in as the reality of things slowly sank in.

The sun setting behind him hid his blushing features as he held onto her hand, close to his chest. His heart was practically in his throat and was begging to be released by the way it thumped like a drum. She had just said yes and he couldn't believe it himself. He lowered her hand and slowly, gently, slipped on the budget ring he bought; luckily it was only a little loose. He is ashamed that Byleth's ring far outclasses his, but that doesn't matter now; he can buy another, much grander ring after he inherits Gaspard. Yet the idea flies out the window when he sees Byleth's eyes watering as she raised her hand to the dying sunlight.

"I love it."

It was his turn to wear his ring. He took his glove off and Byleth took his hand in hers. Lo and behold the ring didn't fit. They laughed.

"It's because it's my mother's!" Mirth in her eyes.

"So you were planning on making me wear a woman's ring!?" he pulled her into a hug as they both chuckled at the predicament. She stacked it over her engagement ring, as she calls it, and watched the gems glisten in the light. "Well, I guess I'll keep Mum's ring as my wedding ring. Let's have Seteth read the charge." He couldn't agree more.


	5. Chapter 5

Almost forgot about the part that Ashe is depressed due to events in his life. But pushes on with kindness and a smile on his face.

* * *

"It's the Ashen Demon and the White Rider!"

Alarms were raised as another underground base was infiltrated by those who live on the surface. Ever since Shambhala was destroyed, the rest of the Agarthans have been making sure that the remnants were not to be discovered. But here is death and it has come. The leader smiled wryly, "Ah, death and pestilence join hands in an unholy matrimony." There were only two of them but they had been successful in their recent conquests and raids. It has taken a great toll on the morale but the leader deemed it was time to turn the tides. "Let us use them," the gangly old man ordered and his minions clambered around the base.

"Hey, it's been quiet," said one of the guards guarding a hallway. "You think they're still there?"

"Dunno, man," the other had a skewed smile. He's a survivor of a prior raid and he'd seen how the Ashen Demon and the White Rider killed many of his friends and allies on their own, with just two of them. "I don't wanna know," his pulse quickened and he gripped his spear tighter. But he was forcefully removed from where he stood. He was a grunt; he had to do what he was told, without questions.

_They haven't seen how merciless those two are!_ He shuddered as he neared the corner. All he had to do was peek._ When I saw a gray and white shade in the distance, I made a run for it. The last thing I heard was that no one survived that stronghold. Just what are they? _Finally, he mustered his courage and looked over the corner. There was no one. He kept his wariness about and stalked the hallway. Even further were just a bunch of corpses, looted to be exact. "There's no one here!" He made it to the entrance unscathed. He looked left, no sign of them. Right, still none. Slowly, the lad crept low a little further out, holding his breath as he waited for that arrow or magic spell, none. Quickly he ran back and reported.

"Death has left, eh? A fair warning." They were lucky. But they knew that self-same luck would eventually run out. But why did they suddenly leave? A strategy perhaps? "Search the nearby villages. Find the demoness and her spouse!"

* * *

He washed his face. His teeth chattered, not of the cold, but of fear of encountering the pair of demons and finally having his life forfeit again. His hands shook as he dipped them in the water. Not even the freezing liquid could make him shudder in the same way.

"Wow. You can't even keep still. Are they that terrifying?" asked his companion guard.

"I'm starting to think that this revenge thing isn't for me. Those two… massacred everyone from the base in Kleiman region, where I came from. I was so afraid! When I saw my buddy with an arrow sticking between his eyes, I ran away! As fast I could!" He was disgusted with himself. "But I thought, that wasn't right. What about the others? So I followed the trail of dead bodies… I swear I heard them laughing. They even danced!" Though he wasn't going to admit that the demons' dancing captivated him. They were graceful even though they were both fully armored; it showed their years of practice. "Then they spotted me and stopped."

"They let you live?"

He shook his head. "Just to let others know of their evil deeds!"

How the White Rider stepped in front of his mate, axe drawn, not even contemplating using the bow, because a grunt like him was not worthy of getting killed through it. The Ashen Demoness feigned fear behind her husband but the grinning demon faceplate of hers betrayed her. Fear paralyzed him. His limbs lost control, he dropped his lance and it clattered on the floor as his whole being realized that he's already dead.

"Leave."

He didn't expect his voice to be whimsical nor boyish. On closer inspection, the White Rider looked young, or what he could make of what the wretched man showed.

"I vouch for your safety. Stay, and she kills you."

Without a moment's notice, his companion slammed him against the wall, "So you led them here!"

"I swear, I didn't!"

"I'm going to kill you!"

His eyes strayed to the ceiling as his neck was slowly being crushed under the other man's grip. To think that he was going to die at the hands of his fellow Agarthan. Perhaps it would've been better if he had lunged at the Ashen Demoness and ended his life that day, it might have been less… disappointing. His eyes feel like they're about to pop out. And his nose felt full, about to burst off his face.

"If you promise never to fight again, forget about the Slitherers, then you are free to live whatever life you want," said the Demoness from behind her helm.

The White Rider chuckled.

He clawed at his attacker's arms. With the last ounce of his strength, he pushed the other's eyes into their sockets until he was let go. His lungs desperately sucked air in. Gasping and with neck in pain, he got up, away from everybody. Yet he got tackled to the floor and his body crashed against hard stone. He was flipped over, punched over and over. His lip broke, and he might have swallowed his own teeth, and his eye might never recover. He raised his hands to guard against the blows but it was no use.

'Maybe they were right…' His arms fell, as his strength left him. It was painful. At least getting shot between the eyes would kill you immediately, or getting pierced through the heart or decapitated. 'No more…' Everything stilled. The coldness of the floor ate him, becoming one with it.

* * *

Soft light set his soul astir. He awoke to unfamiliar surroundings. "I'm alive," he realized. Half of his vision drew a blank; a bandage over his eye. His body was leaden. Lying on bed felt like sleep paralysis, dread pressing against you. And yet, it was strangely comforting. He closed his eyes again.

"Will he live?"

"Oh, yes, quite. I saw him awake earlier."

The voices awoke him. An old man—the doctor—a woman and a man. The man looks familiar. He should. He wanted to call out but his throat hurts and his jaw could barely move. He pushed his voice through, "White… Rider."

"See? He lives!"

"That's good news!" the silver haired man rejoiced.

The woman placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, "I'm glad you survived. You were half-dead on the floor when I came upon you."

'Why are you kind?' The world faded to black.

* * *

"You lost some of your teeth; I'm afraid they're never growing back. And we couldn't heal your eye, it was too far gone." The mutterings of the doctor flew past his head as he gawked at the couple. They were the Ashen Demoness and the White Rider, Byleth and Ashe Ubert respectively, only a couple of enemies they, the Agarthans, ought to wipe off the face of Fódlan. And yet they saved him from his fellowmen, who was so engulfed in anger he was almost killed. His articulators are fully recovered yet he stifled all his words behind his lips.

The doctor left.

"How did you end up in there?" asked the woman. Right now she looked like a kind person. Yet the demon faceplate flashes in his mind. "And why did they hurt you?"

"Shut up!"

"Shut up, Ashen Demoness! You'll never get any information from me!" It is now his fourth dance with death. Would he survive, he wonders.

"So, you're a Slitherer…"

"You're not planning on killing him, are you?" asked the White Rider. Is he faking concern and kindness yet again?

The dastardly woman chuckled, "See that? You'll be the second Slitherer he saves from me."

To be at their mercy was an insult. "Just kill me!"

Yet the Ashen Demoness merely smiled at him. She is beautiful; no one would've known because of that dreaded mask of hers. No wonder the White Rider was enamored with her. "Today is a day of life," she said and did not press on, leaving him confused. "As we told another of your brethren, you're free to live another life. Only if you forget about the Slitherers."

"What other life is there!? On the surface!?"

"Nobody in this town knows what you are, except for being a wounded man rescued from a bandit camp. Why do you fight?"

"Why do you fight?" he returned the question.

"Because I want to stop the people who are using innocents in their heinous plans, torturing them, sacrificing them! Why can't the Agarthans stop scheming!?"

"Alright, that's far enough," soothed the other man. "You're tired. We should all rest and talk some other time, alright?"

Sorrow, helplessness, guilt, he was overcome with intense sadness of having failed his entire race. And yet, his sworn enemies saved him from his own. Twice. "Why did you save me the first time?"

Byleth was confused until everything clicked together. "So you were that man we let go. Well, I wouldn't fight an unarmed person. Neither will he," she pointed at her husband. "He's too chivalrous for that."

"But you killed everyone… in the base!" He had to spend a couple of days burying everyone.

"True, we killed everyone. Everyone who did not drop their weapons and ran."

Ashe had to interject and he showed his mate outside the room yet he lingered for a while. He turned, his kind green eyes boring holes, "I hope that your reason to fight is your own, and not some distant, vague person's hatred."

* * *

It was sunny out, if not a little to hot for a spring day. Well, it was almost summer. And he looked up to the sky, a moment's repose from the hard work of tilling the soil. He looked to his right, he saw the many seedling boxes he had set up not long ago. The seedlings have shot up and they're just about ready to be transferred to the fields. It was a beautiful day. A day he would not have lived to see had he charged the Ashen Demon and her White Rider. His neighbors waved hi at him as they passed. They, too, were cowards and traitors like him. Yet now they live peaceful lives in the small town that their sworn enemies have procured for them. All those days torn about abandoning the fight were now nothing but thoughts to laugh at.

He worked the soil until the sun was at the zenith. After his lunch was the same. Until a bright, straw haired boy passed by, he knew by laughter, and his small hands reached up to the tops of the stone wall and his snotty face peeked through, "Whachu doin?" His curious eyes swept over the small field after he got himself up over the wall.

"Tilling the soil, my lord," he answered as he raised the hoe. "Lord Jeralt, it is not safe to sit there," reminded he as he continued his work. Soon enough a familiar female voice echoes his words. She was still beautiful even though motherhood has given her a few fine lines and wrinkles. Her voice was stern and she did not pass the chance to teach her child of the consequences of being reckless.

Yet the husband was nowhere in sight. "Where might Sir Gaspard be?"

"Him? He's doting on the kids in the orphanage. You know him, can't seem to get enough of cute and adorable faces!" Byleth cleaned her son's face.

"Then why not more children with you?" he teased, causing the woman to laugh.

She beamed, toothy grin, "I am actually pregnant with my third child!" She happily stroked her stomach and her eldest child proclaimed he will have a baby sister. The three of them chatted, mostly about the Ashen Demoness' travels across the land. Then a silver haired man came upon them, with a similarly silver haired boy upon his shoulders. The White Rider happily greeted him, told him how happy he was that the crops are turning out great.

He stopped. His smile dropped. His inner voice whispering to him, coaxing him, attack them, for the glory of Agartha, it said.

"You're not looking well. I guess we'll get going and give you privacy." Then her family went on their merry way, waving goodbye at him with smiles on their faces. They were kind, courteous and mindful. Generous, giving them land and their lives. Most of all, protection from the wrath of the dreaded Imperial Minister Vestra.

Maybe all they told him was a lie. To get him to fight their stupid battle. The Fell Star, the Ashen Demon, maybe all of those weren't real. He gazed at the blue sky and smiled.

* * *

"Congratulations."

Ashe was puzzled to say the least. His wife was on the verge of fainting when they arrived at the second-next village (he was afraid that the nearest village would have been too obvious a hiding spot), and the doctor dares congratulate him? He sharply breathed in. "For what?"

"Your wife is pregnant."

"Preg…nant?"

"Yes, carrying your child," the doctor said proudly. But a few moments of thinking made him recoil and apologize. "Unless… it's not yours and…"

Ashe shook his head. "It's mine! I'm just surprised." The doctor guided him into the infirmary where Byleth was laid to sleep. Carefully, he sat on the edge of the bed so that he could observe her sleeping form. He thought back and began counting, as to make heads of the time the doctor had told him; she was two months in. Must be that time back in Gaspard, he thought. He removed his gauntlets and gloves so that he can gingerly hold Byleth's hand. It was terribly cold.

"Please take care that she is not too exhausted." The doctor eyed him, from head to toe. Covered in armor of highest quality yet showing dings and damage in many places. Not to mention that the wife came in in the same loadout of full battle gear. They had a hard time stripping her bare. "Judging by your appearance, you do battle more often than I would recommend for her. So please, let her take some time off the battlefield."

"Of course. Thank you, doctor."

Ashe tightly held onto her hand, hoping his heat would better it. There were a lot of things to consider for them if they were to settle down. First and foremost, he would have to send a message to his siblings that they were returning to Gaspard. To the steward as well, so that he could prepare their mansion for the baby. Then they would have to inform their friends of the wonderful news. Clothes, bottles, wraps, a lot of things spun in his head as he decided how to procure them at what price, at what quality, at what quantity. He smiled.

"Instead of worrying, I should be celebrating," he chuckled. Unbeknownst to him, Byleth was astir and had been awoken by his musings. "Oh, I'm sorry I woke you."

"You look worried."

"Of course I'd be! You nearly fainted!" Ashe huffed. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I didn't know, I swear! I thought I was just missing it for a month. It happens!" And then she completely forgot about the business of telling him because they were touring the former Faerghus territories in search of small Slitherer hideouts to exterminate. Until the convenience of not having period was overcome by her sudden weakness and nausea was it only brought back to her memory to tell him, but they were in a Slitherer hideout, being the most inappropriate place to speak. She smiled brightly, hoping that he'd be back to his normal self.

"Alright, alright, I get it."

Silence. His hands gently rubbed hers and she answered with putting her other hand over his.

"I was thinking…" Byleth started. But she was afraid she'd get turned down the moment she said the words.

"Yes?" Ashe urged Byleth on.

She smiled. All these years, she forgets what kind of man she married. Then again, he's the type to hear her first, the whole thing—salutations, body and complimentary close—and then deny her if she's being unreasonable. But she'll never know until she tries, "Now that we're having a child, we would have to settle down, right?"

"You sound like you don't want to." He was sad. And disappointed. She heard it in his voice. Now Byleth feels bad asking such a thing. "I know you grew up moving around. I don't even know how Sir Jeralt managed to take care of a baby you." There was restrained giggle that made Ashe pause. He glared at Byleth who was giggling at him.

"It's the way you call my Dad. It's weird. He's your Dad, too, you know."

"Don't interrupt me," ordered Ashe with a smile as he playfully pinched Byleth's nose, then got back to topic, "Granted, he didn't get to be pregnant with you nor did he have to nurse you personally." He was thoughtful for a few moments. "I guess we could settle down a bit back in Gaspard. For a few years until we can move around again."

"I like the sound of that," Byleth smiled. The couple then shared a chaste kiss, in celebration of their first child. "You have to work on calling my Dad Dad."

Ashe chuckled. "It's weird! How am I supposed to practice?"

The two laughed from one topic to another. Times like these barely came to them as they did charitable deeds all over Fódlan, aside from the mindless murder of Agarthans. Only the nurse visiting for Byleth's food was the only reminder they had.

The husband stood to get back to their horses tethered outside. He got rations and water for himself, and while rummaging, remembered some thoughts best left alone. It was a flash of darkness in his mind.

'Would I make a good father? Would I be enough?' He questioned himself. 'I might fail. No, I'm going to fail!' Suddenly, his left hand clamped down on his right, both shaking. His subconscious mind tipping him off, to stop his thoughts right there. The man continued on for his search for the damned ration. He needed to get back to Byleth, to see that sunny smile she learned from everyone else. To chase the clouds away. 'Why did she even choose me? Wait. I'm the one who keeps on sticking to her.'

"Sir?" A nurses voice shocks him out of his thoughts. "Your wife needs you."

'Needs me? I doubt it. She's more than capable.' Doubt after doubt came into his mind, raining from the inky black clouds that formed overhead. "She does, does she?" Nevertheless, he followed her back into the infirmary's ward with items in hand. He saw Byleth eating, obviously not impressed with the food. The moment he sat back on his place at the bedside, she whispered, "You spoiled me when it comes to food."

Ashe forced himself to speak, "Why is that?"

"Because everything you make is just… heavenly," she asked for the smoked meat in his possession, opting for it rather than the food served. She giggled. "Maybe because I love you too much."

"You do?" His features were forlorn. It was the validation he needed and yet it rang hollow in his ears.

"I do. I love you. Always. Forever, Ashe. I hope you feel the same." Byleth was silent for a second as she chewed on her food. "I was thinking, while you were out, we've been living my life up till now."

Ashe stared at her blankly.

"Why don't we settle back in Gaspard, so you can work on your legacy?"

"What? Why?"

"Edelgard did say you can rule over Gaspard if you want. Heck, the governor still governs in your name." Yet her husband was silent. Uncharacteristically so. "Ever since we took on this adventure, it seems you've focused your everything in pleasing all my whims yet I never heard a peep about yours. What do you want, Ashe?"

The man grunted. "It's not like my rule would be better than the governor's. Let's just leave it to somebody who actually knows how to do it." His green eyes were stuck on the floorboards. It was like that since he returned from outside. It was like a shadow hung over him. Like he was back to his teenage days, right after Lonato embarked on that suicide mission against the church.

Byleth smiled. The two of them have many scars, some physical, some intangible. They come and go as they please, and when they do come, they always throw a shroud over their eyes, darkened and gloomy. "You're tired of all of this. Aren't you?"

He didn't speak. Yet he remained motionless.

Her hands moved to touch his knee, "I'd still be with you tomorrow. I'd still be pregnant tomorrow. You'd still be with me tomorrow. Whatever worries you, let's talk about it tomorrow."

Finally, Ashe turned his eyes to her. He felt cheated. Because she knows that all their regrets can be summed up to delaying things for later, and bringing up the 'Let's talk about it later' card shakes him like no other. His lips were a taut line until he spoke against his wishes, "Let's talk about it now. I'm just… there's this..." he clamped his mouth shut. A lot of things ran in his mind, each trying to have his full attention. "It's like a passing wind, you know. A passing dark cloud. And it just… I didn't mean to think about it. Now it's festering in my mind."

Byleth coaxed him further, nodding.

"Suddenly, a lot of things came back, along with the worry of whether I'd be a good father or not."

"You'll make a good father, we both know it."

"But what if I—"

"What if—"

"I—"

He felt her cold hand on his knee. Those hands are calloused. Those deft fingers he loves to entangle with his. Their happy memories flash in his mind, euphoria, slowly covering and driving away what depressing thoughts that have taken over his faculties at the moment. The thoughts willed away, yet the bitterness remains.

The next morning he woke up, with her by his side. And the next, and the day after that.


	6. A Political Marriage

_Hey there fellow children! lol I recently read an article about Dollar Princesses and how their lives were turned upside down by bad political marriages so that has partially inspired this chapter._

_To be honest, I never finished the Blue Lions path but have spoiled myself through various means, so forgive me if my writing does not suspend your disbelief. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this chapter!_

_WARNING: may rub some readers the wrong way because it might have shades of cheating or something _

* * *

The mercenary band turned lively at the sudden request of escorting the prince of Faerghus. Hooting, the men and women jibed at Leonie, "Leonie will be taking care of her grandson!" they sing-songed.

"Shut up, you! You want me to withhold your pay!?"

"Oh come on, lady boss! That's the son of your step-daughter!"

And it became wilder as they approached Garreg. She's been drinking more by the night to alleviate the headache she's been having from all the jests she's been put through. They were not wrong though; she looks forward to escorting the prince. After all, his straw-blond hair cut short and a scowl uninterested reminded her of her lost love. What did set the boy apart was his piercing green eyes. They had kindness in them, a stark contrast to his firm expression.

It's been a while, thought Leonie as the towering edifice jutted from the jagged Oghma Mountains. Ever so slowly, the road climbed towards the monastery and with it came her memories. It was a healthy mix of fun, excitement and pain yet it helped her grow all the same. Even if it was there that her love breathed his last. Always, her eyes became misty at the thought, never being able to have closure with the man. It was a long time ago yet perfect like yesterday.

Byleth welcomed them at the gates of the castle town, a tired smile upon her lips. The woman indeed has seen better days and she needs rest more than ever. She might be living a luxurious life but it has its own set of problems altogether.

"Leonie." The two women shared a caress and kissed each other's cheeks. "It has been a while. Thank you for humbling me with your presence."

"Oh, it's nothing, Professor." She quickly got into business, "So who am I escorting this time?" Which was weird, considering that the Knights of Seiros could easily do the job. Yet Byleth beckoned her to the monastery, up to what used to be Seteth's office. He long resigned from his position.

The doors closed.

"You are to train my son to become a mercenary."

Again, it was dubious. "Why? He should have learned all that he can while in the Officers Academy." Although she can teach them a life of modesty; she chuckled inward. And which one anyway? Both are strong as, if not stronger than, their parents.

"Then let me rephrase. I want you to take my son into your mercenary company."

"Why?" There must be some cruel twist to it. That's how the usual business with a noble goes.

"Because he wants to," Byleth smiled, almost nostalgic.

Leonie leaned on the table, threatening her friend, "Pardon me but a prince just doesn't become a mercenary."

The door creaks open. The resemblance kicked the female mercenary in the gut and her mouth fell open in surprise. Quickly, she shook her head. It was impossible for a person who's been dead for more than twenty years to suddenly be alive. She doesn't remember the kid being that attractive. Or too similar to Jeralt.

"I am no longer a prince," he answered. "Apologies, Archbishop. The moment I heard that the Blade Breaker arrived, I could not stop myself from barging in." He smirked, certainly not sorry, even for a bit, of his impoliteness. Leonie knows that Byleth's children were never spoiled, but carried an air of confidence. And this one, was certainly on the arrogant side, not that the other sibling, Ephraim, was modest. "Lady Leonie, it's been a while," he bowed.

Byleth chuckled at the way she gawked at him. "He looks a lot like my father, doesn't he?" the woman was smirking as she took in the other's dumbfounded expression. "Take Gawain under your wing."

Questions after questions ran in Leonie's mind and she can't choose which one to raise to the two. Fortunately, Byleth knew where to start. She shooed her son away against his wishes.

"He was disowned, to put it simply."

"Now that's just harsh." Although Faerghus royalty has been known for skipping crestless firstborns in favor of crest-bearing siblings. However, Prince Gawain is known for having a crest of Seiros. "Because he didn't have the Blaiddyd crest?"

"That is one thing. But you've seen him," Byleth referred to her son's behavior. "He used to be docile, sweet. I believe this is what you'd call rebellious phase."

Even if a kid is rebellious, what could he possibly do to get disowned by his father? Yet the answer to this was never supplied and she was escorted back by the aide. Outside the door was Gawain, smoothing his straw-colored fringes out of his eye. He turned and his green eyes curved in smile.

"I guess we'll be getting sick of each other's faces soon," the boy jested.

_Is this what he would've looked like if we met at my age back then? Certainly minus the jolly and smiles._

"Say, Gawain," Leonie paused, weighing if what she was about to say was appropriate. She ultimately decided to hold for later. "Never mind. Let's go! Do you drink?"

The boy laughed, "You're just as crazy as my mother says!"

The gold that came out of the Privy Purse was staggering. Leonie and her band practically drooled. "That is your payment for this mission. After he gets used to his new life, he must earn his keep."

"You never compromise, do you, Mother?"

"This is already a compromise. I wanted you to be a knight, here by my side, yet you have a life of your own. Who am I to take it from you?" A tear fell from her eye and shocked her son. She has always been stoic, perhaps too much. "Take good care of yourself, my son. Come home when you are tired."

"Haha I bet Ephraim's gonna be jealous when he hears the news!" jested Gawain. Yet his mother did not laugh. She did not have the strength to. Byleth pulled him into a tight hug before finally letting him go on his quest.

* * *

The news haven't been kind to him and many of his constituents continuously plead to him to revert his decision of disowning his eldest child. Felix himself thinks so, too. "Was it really necessary?"

"He isn't mine, Felix." His words didn't shock his most trusted advisor and general. Most people would have found it surprising. Unless… "That's odd. You're not surprised of the revelation?"

Felix merely sighed. Then he walked up to the opulent cupboard and took the glasses and the alcohol. It was going to be a long day. "So you finally figured it out," was the man's reply, neither surprised nor expectant.

"What do you m—ah, I get it now. You knew. All this time." There wasn't any sense of betrayal. He felt it was befitting.

"Everyone knew he wasn't yours, Dimitri." Felix poured the drink. "I'm just glad you're finally awake."

"Was it that obvious? That Gawain wasn't my son?"

"No. An unknowing outsider wouldn't think of it. But for us, your and Byleth's friends, it was easy to put two and two together." Felix watched Dimitri stare into his drink. What's a cupful became a bottomless sea, where the answers lie in its murky depths. His liege was silent for a good while, too deep in thought, until he moved to down the acrid liquid.

"Was I so absorbed that I hadn't realized?"

"You hadn't been yourself for so long, that when you finally became lucid, everything else is shoved to the back of your head," the blue-haired man said flatly and he drank his fill. "So. What made you wake up?"

"I…" The king asked for another shot. "One day I noticed. As if everything fell into place. Those nasty whispers in court, Byleth's rumored lover, Ashe's sedition case which was stupid by the way, his people's hate of me, their past, everything. Everything suddenly pieced together in my mind after I saw Gawain speak enthusiastically with Ashe during the Congregation of Lords." His solitary blue eye parted from the glass to look at Felix. "I'm despicable!"

"Tell me about it." Felix didn't bother comforting the other. To him, it was about darn time that Dimitri realized what was going on and then turn around. The sad part is, there's no turning back. "You took them away from each other. From what Annette said, Byleth and Ashe were engaged right after the war." He scoffed at the memory of Annette begging him to put some sense into Dimitri's head. Even at present, his wife takes it against him whenever they see Ashe lonely during parties. "They were planning to marry," he said further, as if to drive the nail deeper. "Why don't you ask him of what other things you did?" He finally acknowledged the presence of the third man in the room.

"Dedue?" He shuddered. The two men with him had grim expressions. Yet he has no recollection of whatever he could have possibly done that could garner such an expression. "What did I do?"

"Your Majesty… You nearly killed Ashe."

"I… did what?"

* * *

Dimitri looked up to the balcony where Byleth stood. He wasn't thrilled to see her, not since he disowned their eldest child. Each step he took got him closer to her but at the same time, it was a blow to his heart and ego. He was too absorbed in his revenge, in his loss, that when he finally offed Edelgard and his revenge finally fulfilled, he believed he had emptied himself. He tried to fill that void, futilely, until he realized that the fear of Byleth's presence disappearing, along with her guidance, ate at him, swallowed him whole.

He has no memory of what had transpired, of what others recounted as truth. None of it. Yet he trusts Dedue and Felix enough to believe what they say, that he tried to kill Ashe just to rid himself of a rival for Byleth's affections. The very thought made him retch.

The sun shone brightly at the zenith and its rays bathed Byleth in its golden glow. She did not turn at his presence, still mad at him.

He had forgotten the last time they fought. But every time they did, they would find a way to make up, talk about each other's shortcomings and promise to improve, not only for themselves, but also for the whole of Fódlan. But that was before he realized how greedy he had been. "Is it true that I tried to murder Ashe?" Dimitri wanted the truth come out of Byleth's lips. Will she say the truth or pity him?

"It's true. He still bears the scar up to this day. A huge scar on his abdomen, a grisly reminder of what a monster his liege can be. Yet he serves with utmost loyalty." The woman turned, implacable as always.

"I see…" was all he could muster out of shame.

"We couldn't fight you. I was exhausted while his loyalty ate him up. He thought of his personal oath and duty, while I thought of leaving Fódlan." She chuckled. "But it's all in the past." There was the idea of abusing Divine Pulse; she mulled it over many times. But seeing Ashe and his overtly righteous nature steered her clear of such a temptation. Until too much time has passed and she doubts she could rewind time farther into the past. And yet... remembering how Ashe almost succumbed to his wound refreshed her wrath, her frustration at the fact that no matter how many times she tried it always ended up the same. A sliver of her mind thought of the dagger that she conceals underneath her cape. Her hand slipped under her arm and grasped the hilt of the knife. "Maybe just this once?" Byleth smiled sweetly then stabbed Dimitri. The confused look on his face was fulfilling. Her stifled anger overflowed and soon her heart was emptied. Was it worth it? One look at Dimitri's acceptance filled her with overwhelming guilt. She expected him to be indignant, wrathful, just as he skewered Ashe in jealousy a long time ago. To think she thought she had forgiven him yet all she did was bury it deep in her heart.

Dimitri smiled and hugged her, pushing the blade deeper into his chest. "I definitely deserve that."

As warm blood trickled on her hand, she was reminded of the smiling faces of her three children. And the memory of Ashe's face reminded her of what she must hold dear.

Time paused and her bloodied fingers grazed his face. "Perhaps you did. I should…" Her hand cupped his face. "Yet I shouldn't have." Time rewound, her guilty pleasure of stabbing her own husband remained in her mind. She thought of doing it again but she laughed; Ashe's disappointed and worried face flooded her mind and brought her back. The greys faded and color washed everything as the flow of time returned to normal.

"I enjoyed all our happy times together with our family. Though I'm still mad at you." She laughed.

* * *

His tired, solitary eye gazed into her features. His breath hitched and he rasped; time is finally taking its toll. While he lay in his bed dying, she hasn't changed for the past fifty years, not a blemish on her alabaster skin. The same was true for him, Fódlan's perfect knight.

Dimitri closed his eyes and reminisced of the time Seteth had briefed him of Byleth's unique case. At first he didn't believe it but once he had the chance to bring his ear to her chest, he understood. The absence of a heartbeat was caused by the Crest of Flames attached to her heart. Not only that but she was of blood and flesh of the goddess, for without the blood, the crest stone would have turned her into a black beast. And by that same blood, she could bestow a long, if not a never-ending, life. He opened his eyes. It was through him that Ashe had to imbibe Byleth's blood. Perhaps it was fate. Knowing that they can be together again, after his transgression, gave him relief.

He beckoned the knight over to his side and he bent low, ear to his lips. Dimitri willed himself to speak, "Ashe, I am returning… what is rightfully yours… May you two keep each other safe." His knight knelt on his bedside and kissed his hand. There were tears in those green eyes, tears he could never understand why they fall for someone like him. Perhaps they were tears of joy, of his ultimate reunion with his love.

Dimitri sighed as his grip on her hand diminished. His death was inevitable. "Thank you, my beloved," he said, hoarse voiced. Byleth nodded and her fingers flitted over his brow as his breath became labored. Ah, sweet release, he thought. His muscles lost tension and his hand became limp. Dedue silently cried in mourning as he knelt at the foot of the bed. His beloved king now eternally gone.

Ephraim, now a grown man himself, watched as his mother gingerly place his father's hand down on the bed. He did not hear what his father had spoken to Lord Gaspard, just as the reason for the lord being there equally eluded him. Why does the man get to hear the final words of his father when he barely saw them as friends and nothing more than a liege and his vassal? That wasn't the worst part of it. The man was as ageless as his mother.

"I will be traveling to Almyra with Sir Ashe," announced Byleth when they gathered in a separate room, away from the prying eyes and eavesdropping ears of the servants and constituents.

"Why with him?" Ephraim was pointedly accusing yet Gawain held him back, so did their sister. "What is going on? Why are you leaving us for him?"

"I cannot stay. In fact I have already overstayed. Look at me, my son. I haven't aged since I gave birth to you."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I do not wish to further spurn the masses. It is better that I disappear from their sight."

"You're using that an excuse to spend time with your lover!"

"Ephraim. I won't stand idly by as you disrespect my parents," warned Gawain. "It is in His Majesty's will, have you forgotten? We're grown men with families of our own. And Mother raised us well despite the circumstances, never lacking. She should be left to her own devices."

"Well then, let's condone this shameless act right after the death of MY father. As if she's celebrating it!"

"You brothers shouldn't be figh—"

"Stay out of this, Lord Gaspard. I've had enough of you destroying my family."

Byleth laughed. "If… if you want an egg or chicken scenario, it was YOUR father who did it first. I'm sorry we didn't tell you exactly what happened. It's because I wanted you to love your father. Had I told you when you were young, learning that your father stole me from another man, what would that have left you?"

"Byleth, we willingly agreed," corrected Ashe.

"Sure, if by willingly you meant Dimitri stabbed you and almost killed you-willingly. I had to give you my blood just so you can live through it."

Ephraim and his twin sister paled while Gawain merely closed his eyes and sighed.

"It is the truth," seconded Dedue who has yet to dry his eyes.

"Take it however it pleases you, Ephraim. But I will travel to Almyra with Ashe. I will not repeat myself."

The whole of Fódlan mourned the passing of their first king. It lasted for seven days until he was finally laid to rest in the royal catacombs under Fhirdiad. Once the ceremony was over, those who wished nothing to do with the royal family quickly left the capital. Friends and family stayed for a bit more.

Felix was appropriately silent throughout the ordeal while Annette picked up socializing in behalf of her husband. Dorothea, in the absence of her late husband, and her children helped with anything that needed more pairs of hands. Ingrid stayed as well, saying there's not much to do when one is retired, and she kept a strict eye on Dedue. Mercedes unfortunately had to return to Garreg Mach as her old bones can no longer keep up with the cold. Both Byleth and Ashe kept their distance from the masses, accompanying their grandchildren instead.

It was unnerving to see for Ephraim, of how the grandchildren look similar in age with their grandparents, especially Isaac who happens to be the spitting image of his mother.

Ashe approached him, "How are you feeling?"

"Saddened, of course," he hissed at the older yet younger looking man. Eerie was understating it.

"Your father is a great man."

"You say that even after he tried to kill you?"

Yet Ashe brushes off his tone, "Sometimes people can be lost to intense fear or grief and in desperation do acts that they regret. It was the same with your father. I've seen him lose everything he held dear and break into million fragments that he couldn't put back together."

Ephraim warily glared at him, prompting him to chuckle. Even when he was a child, he heard the female servants talk about how youthful Lord Gaspard is and how they fawn over him. Forty years later he looks the same as he remembers the knight back in his childhood. The perfect knight, they say. Perfect indeed, after being betrayed by his liege, he serves impeccably despite the wrongdoings done upon him. He doesn't know if Ashe is simply too dumb or stupidly loyal. Maybe both.

"You don't buy it, huh?"

"You served my father because you love my mother, don't you?"

"That is one reason. And if you would allow it, I wish to serve you."

"No, thank you," was his quick answer.

Ashe was disappointed. Dejected, he bowed. "Of course, how brazen of me."

"I merely do not want an ageless soul to keep watch over me, reminding me of my own mortality." Ephraim sighed. "Some are moving to find the secret to your youth. I understand your need to leave. I was simply being pigheaded. Please accept my apologies, Lord Gaspard."

"Oh no, there is no need, Your Majesty! I am unworthy!"

Ephraim smirked, "So it is true you have a flatterer's tongue." He watched the other man squirm in embarrassment, continuously apologizing for his manner of speaking. "I was jesting. Please take care of my mother. As you always have."

Ashe knelt to his liege. "Certainly."


End file.
